Internal, Infernal
by Jezzabelle
Summary: Severus Snape never expected to have to deal with an intern, especially not one as annoying as Raphaela Vialle. She's infuriatingly clueless, ridiculously unprofessional, and he may just be falling for her. SSOC
1. Introduction and Philosophy

Hi! This is one of the very few Author's Notes in the story. Just some formalities and stuff. This is predominantly a story about Snape and my original character, Raphaela. It was insanely fun to write because Raphaela is an insanely fun character, and I hope it's insanely fun to read. It's set in the year 2000, and Raphaela went to Hogwarts between 1983 and 1990, so we won't be seeing Harry and co. in this story. It's mostly HBP and DH compliant, except obviously, Snape isn't dead. Sorry if you haven't read DH and I ruined the ending for you, but come on, it's been out for over a year. I'm sure other people died in DH that I can't remember and who will be appearing in this story, so don't bother calling me out on it 'cause I'll probably ignore you. Dumbledore, however, has remained deceased and McGonagall is the headmistress of Hogwarts. I'm sure you can figure this stuff out for yourselves though.

Disclaimer: None of this Harry Potter junk belongs to me, so anything you recognize isn't mine. Raphaela, however, is, and I like her enough to claim her for myself. So don't steal! And if I _did_ have the rights to Harry Potter, I wouldn't be spending my time writing this. I'd be changing the script of the new HP movies to include MWPP-era make-out competitions. Because I am a sick, sick girl.

This is rated the way it is for the swears and the _references_. So if you don't like the swears or the _references_, that shit is not my problem, 'cause I did your mum.

**Chapter One: Introduction and Philosophy**

The chair wasn't too comfortable, but it was something to sit on while I sipped my coffee. It was a typical staff-room chair, two squares of vinyl-covered foam and scrubbed wood armrests. These chairs were scattered around the room in either black or brown, though sometimes you would find the odd navy-coloured seat. I sat on a navy seat whenever I could. It was my favourite colour – nobody else seemed to like navy too much, so I thought I might. Everyone else liked pink, or green, or purple. _Nice_ colours. I rested my feet upon the desk in front of me, only to have them kicked off with a jerk from the table, which seemed to take offence at being rested on. It raised one leg to shake it angrily at me, but got imbalanced and tipped over. I laughed.

"What's so funny?" The voice was coming from the doorway. I swiveled around in my chair only to see the Potions Master, Severus Snape, glaring back at me. He stood rigidly in the doorway, as though my being here had disrupted his carefully-laid plans.

"The table… it fell over." It sounded stupid now that I'd said it. His gaze shifted slightly, from suspicion to disdain.

"Lovely. Who are you?" he asked. Well, what a question. If one were to truly consider who we are, I expect we'd have to draw from various schools of philosophy, such as – oh. Right. He actually has no idea who I am. Well, I suppose that's to be expected. I only arrived at this place yesterday. McGonagall owled me yesterday morning, August thirtieth, to ask if I'd consider returning to the school for a teaching internship. I'd talked to her often when I attended this fine establishment; she knew that I'd always wanted to be a teacher. She told me that I'd have to wait a few years after graduating, get some professional experience, and then return to Hogwarts. I'd just been fired from my job working in an old magical bookshop in London because I wasn't the right 'material' for bookstore work. In other words, the proprietor loathed me. Well, she would. Back in the present, I sipped my coffee and realized it was bitter.

"I wish I had tea!" I cried.

"Er… what? Who are you?" The man in the doorway repeated. I stared. Oh. Of course. I was too busy going off on a tangent to realize that there was a question to be answered.

"I'm Raphaela."

"…Raphaela," he repeated. I nodded. "What are you doing in the teacher's lounge?"

"Oh! Sorry, I'm a bit of an idiot," I said with a laugh, hoping to break the tension. It didn't work. Not in the slightest. "Raphaela Vialle. I'm interning here for a while." He continued to stare at me as if I was some sort of freak.

"I was not informed of this," he finally said. I was grateful; the silence had been so thick you could have cut it with a knife. I was almost about to try when he began to speak. "I expect if I were to call on McGonagall, she would back up your story?"

"Yes, I expect she would," I said slowly. Snape may have been a bit older than I remembered from my days at the Hog, but he was still absolutely impossible. "Oh, actually," I said, remembering the letter still in my pocket, "I have a letter from her here." I handed it to him and he scanned it, peering intently at the signature at the bottom of the note. He then looked me up and down, seemingly satisfied with my evidence.

"Teachers at this school wear robes," he said. "You will need some."

I sighed. I had always hated wearing robes. The plus was that they were a warm extra layer in winter, but they were like wearing a tent every day. Plus, they were hell in summer. I looked down at my outfit that he found so questionable – it was just a pair of tight-fitting, faded jeans and a cotton-elastane black tank top. "I'm not a teacher here," I said, standing up to Snape for the first time in my life. My school days had been spent with the ornery professor giving me detentions and punishments at every opportunity. "I think these clothes will be fine."

"They will be fine if you are interning in a subject such as Transifiguration or History of Magic… but they will not do if you are studying the teaching of a subject such as Care of Magical Creatures or Herbology." He peered at me as he said this, as though trying to work out what subject I was after.

"Oh, well I'm doing a Potions internship, so I'll just wear an apron or something so I don't get a stomach covered in splatter burns from the cauldrons," I said, inspecting my fingernails.

Snape sighed. "Well, you'll have to negotiate with McGonagall – wait, what did you say?"

"I'll wear an apron?" I said, toying with him. I was enjoying seeing him squirm.

"Before that, stupid girl!"

"I'm doing a Potions internship."

It seemed his worst fears had been realized, as his eyes nearly popped out of his head and his cheeks flared red. "No you are not. McGonagall has not consulted with me over this. I will not allow it. I will not! I have enough to do without having to babysit an overgrown teenager."

"Oh, get over yourself, stink-head," I teased, walking over to pour the last of my coffee down the sink. I turned my head as I began to rinse my mug, talking to him over my shoulder. "There will be no babysitting. I'll just sit by the sidelines, learn some stuff, and maybe when I take over your position as Potions Master I'll move out of the dungeons and give the young'uns some ventilation so Madam Pomfrey won't have so many asthma cases to cure."

Snape narrowed his eyes at me. "Even if it kills me, I will personally ensure you never teach at this school."

"How lovely," I said, feigning boredom. "But before that, you've got quite some time with me, and if you're going to make a promise like that then I think I'll make your life a living hell while I'm here." Ha. _Zing._ I had him. I totally had him. He had nothing to say.

"We shall see," he said, turning and sweeping out of the room like a big bat. Well, I guess he did have something to say, but nothing particularly zing-worthy to say.

"Zing!" I called after him. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, an expression of utmost confusion and bemusement on his face. I would have laughed, were I not so desperate to affect a serious disposition. Instead, I fought to keep a straight face as he made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a disbelieving grunt. He turned away and continued to walk.


	2. Tea

**Chapter Two: Tea**

I lay in bed the next morning, wondering how best to irritate Professor Snape. Well, I supposed that since we were something of _colleagues_ now, I should refer to him by his first name. I wondered how best to pronounce it, to bring the greatest discomfort to him. Seeeeeeeeeverus. Severooooos? Or maybe I could get it completely wrong and spend all day calling him Barry. Heh, heheh. I marveled at my own genius. Throwing back the navy silks that adorned my very own four-poster _(fancy_!), I leapt from the king-sized bed and flung open my closet with a flourish. I stood for quite some time, trying to decide what outfit would infuriate the Potions Master the most. Finally, I decided. I would wear my pleated navy micro-mini and the black tank top from the previous day. Oh yes. I was the master.

By the time I reached the dungeons, it was bitterly cold. Of course. First day of the school year in the morning, it was always the coldest. After a few days, the heat from two hundred fires a day made it nearly bearable. But this morning was just cold, so I cast a lengthening charm on my socks. They turned thigh-high, navy and black striped. Quite good spellwork, if I did say so myself. I made it to the Potions room five minutes before the lesson was due to start. Professor Snape – er, Severus – was sitting at his desk at the front of the class, writing some last-minute notes for the classes of the day.

"Morning!" I said brightly, trying to keep the chatter out of my voice. "Couldn't conjure me up a cup of tea, could you?"

"I am not your servant," he replied, keeping his eyes on the papers. He hadn't even looked at me yet. I pouted.

"Well fine, but I warn you, I'm terrible with culinary spells," I said, pointing my wand at the table, where a mug appeared. I gave a little spin to my wand, and pale brown liquid began to pour out. "Dum de dum, making tea for me, tea for me, for me, for me!" I sang. I could see Severus's quill pressing down harder on the parchment, and I smiled. "Oops!" I cried, with an over-enthusiastic flourish as tea spilled over the side of my mug and all over his work. "Gosh, I'm _terribly_ sorry. If there's _anything_ I could do -"

I couldn't say anything more, for in a split second there was a wand to my throat and Severus was glaring at me as though he wanted nothing more than to shove that wand straight through my neck. "I warned you," I whispered, then realised that his face was approximately two inches from my own and I couldn't for the life of me remember whether or not I had brushed my teeth that morning. His eyes narrowed, but the minute he properly looked at me, he lowered his wand and stared.

"What on earth are you wearing, Vialle?"

"It's Raphaela," I corrected. "And these are clothes, _Severus_. Some people _wear _them. Robes are not clothes, they're just a lazy way of getting dressed."

"Apron?" He asked. I produced a frilly cotton French maid's apron from my small bag and put it on. He raised an eyebrow.

"That doesn't look very protective."

I smiled broadly. "Try to stain me! Go on!" Severus picked up my overflowing mug of tea and flung the contents at me, with a horrible smile on his face. It bounced off and fell to the ground, leaving me spotless. "The charm on this thing stretches over my entire body," I said, drawing out the last two words. "Maybe I could get one for you too?"

"Vialle!" Severus cried, flinging his arms up and storming across the room. "You are undoubtedly the most irritating, self-satisfied -" he paused. I didn't get to find out exactly what I was, for first-year students had begun to mill into the dungeon, looking apprehensive yet eager.

* * *

Yeah, this chapter was really short. Sorry! I had to make it this short because I was having some issues with the overall length. Don't worry, every other chapter will be about twice as long as this one. If you're still freaking out about length then you can go back and re-read this chapter (or indeed any HP book or fic) and mentally replace the word 'wand' with the word 'wang'. It's a laugh.


	3. Foolish Wand Waving

**Chapter Three: Foolish Wand-Waving**

Severus vanished the tea from the ground and the desk, and swept around behind his desk to stare imposingly at the young wizards. I conjured up a huge beanbag and jumped onto it, so I was sitting at the height of the desk next to me. "There is no foolish wand-waving -"

"Oh, no way!" Severus spun around so fast I thought he must have slipped a disc. He glared at me again. I thought I'd better keep a running tally of the times he glares at me. Four, since yesterday, I figured.

"What is it, Vialle?" He asked with clenched teeth, far angrier than he was trying to let on. He turned back to the rest of the class. "Raphaela Vialle here is an intern. She is unprofessional and incompetent, and I pray this will not distract you from your usual dunderheaded attempts at mixing the delicate brews of potions."

"If you'd let me answer before you went back to being a dick at the kids," I said, annoyed. "Oh shit, am I allowed to say dick in front of first-years?" To my surprise, a laugh erupted from the young wizards in front of me.

"No, you are not," Severus said without looking at me. "Now, as I was saying -"

"As _I_ was saying," I continued, "I interrupted you because I couldn't believe you still use that stupid 'there will be no foolish wand-waving' speech on the first-years. Seriously, what is with that?" I was smiling. I enjoyed getting under the skin of this overgrown bat.

"Professor?" A small hand was raised in the class. The owner of this hand was bobbing up and down in her seat, and pressing her glasses further up her nose with her free hand. "Professor, there's something in my textbook I didn't understand -"

"Quiet, girl," Severus snapped. "Five points from Ravenclaw for speaking out of turn. I taught a girl like you once. Her name was Hermione Granger." There were several oohs and aahs from the classroom, as they turned to look at the beaming girl. "Shut up," Severus snapped once more. "That was not a compliment. Granger was an insufferable know-it-all of mediocre real intelligence who consistently spoke out of turn and was perpetually trying to make herself look better than the other students. She got through her classes by wasting her time memorizing every word from the textbooks and truly learning little. She was equal to a piece of slime on the bottom of a cauldron. If you strive to be like her, I warn you that will result in passing exams but failing life."

"That's not true," one young boy spoke up. "She helped Harry Potter destroy Voldemort."

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, and if anyone else speaks out of turn in this lesson it will be fifty points removed. We wouldn't want to be in negative points so early in the year, would we?"

The students grumbled but did not fight this ruling. I glared at Severus. "You really are a dick, aren't you?" I burst out angrily. "Shit, can't say dick. You're a real wang."

"You can't say 'wang' either, Vialle," Severus muttered under his breath to me on my navy beanbag.

"Then you're a penis!"

"You can't say that in front of the students!"

"Well fuck you! What can I say?! Can I say fuck you?"

Severus glared at me once more. I had lost my temper and I knew it. I turned to look at the students. They were all gazing at me, jaws dropped. "Er…" I started. "If you all promise not to tell anybody I said those words, I'll give you back the points Severus – Professor Snape – took away."

"Perhaps, Vialle," Severus muttered so that only I could hear, "it would be better if you did not speak at all."

"Perhaps it would be better if you were not such a dick," I muttered, out of earshot of the students. "And don't tell me I can't say that, because the kids didn't hear."

"Or _perhaps_," Severus said, his tone becoming harder, "you could try for some professionalism. Try to act more like a teacher. And most of all, try not to undermine me in front of the kids. It gives them the wrong idea."

"Oh, come off it. We aren't a _married couple_. These students aren't our _children_. We don't have to present a _united front_. I don't think they really give a shit whether or not I undermine you." I shifted my position on the beanbag. I was now lying on my back, with my legs slightly raised and crossed over the hump of the beanbag, so that my short black hair could fall down the side of the beanbag.

"How old are you, twelve?" Severus asked, glaring at me again. Five glares now. "Sit up straight and try to act like a professional."

I laughed, sticking out my tongue. "Twenty-seven," I said, "And I'm _very_ professional. It's what got me this awesome internship."

"That's a lie."

"True. I think I only got this because McGonagall knew I was fired from my job," I said flippantly, "for being unprofessional." I let out a loud laugh. "This is quite fun, actually."

"Work is not 'fun'," Severus said, shuffling his papers in front of him. "It is work. And unlike you, I appreciate this and do my job with professionalism and integrity."

"Well you might try for a bit of work now," I giggled, pointing at the students. "They've been sitting there twiddling their thumbs for the past ten minutes because you haven't assigned them any work."

This earned me my sixth glare, but he knew I was right and stood up to instruct the students on their first potions. "Today you will be brewing a mild calmative. If your work is sub-par – which I strongly suspect much of your work will be – you will take mandatory remedial potions lessons on Saturday mornings until you improve to my satisfaction."

"So no pressure," I said with a smile to the trembling first-years. Some relaxed slightly at my disposition, some remained fixated on Severus, eyes wide and fearful.

"These remedial sessions will be taught by Miss Vialle here," he said, with a nasty, grinning snarl in my direction.

"You can't do that!" I cried. I leapt off the beanbag and placed my hands on my hips. "You can't just say that… and make me do that! You _suck!_"

"Grow up, Vialle," Severus said disdainfully. "You are working under me, and you will do as instructed."

I snorted with laughter. "Sure, whatever you say," I said between laughs. "I'll do whatever you say while I'm… _under_ you!" I broke out in fresh laughter, doubling over and collapsing back onto the beanbag.

"You cannot say things like that in front of the students," Severus muttered. He was still scribbling notes down on his now-dried parchment. "I think you need to at least read the contents page of the Teacher's Handbook." He turned to the students. "Instructions," he waved his wand at the blackboard, "are here. Ingredients are in the student's store cupboard. Begin."

"Shit, there's a handbook?" I asked. Nobody had told me of any handbook. Well, I supposed I had only really spoken to McGonagall since arriving here, and then it was just admin stuff, like where I'm sleeping and my class schedule. Even then, she'd just given me two bits of paper, one with a map and one with a timetable, and told me to 'try and learn a bit'. And even then, the map was poorly done. It took me two hours to find my bedroom. I wandered into the same bathroom about six times. Back in the present, Severus was eyeing me with a seething distaste in his eyes. I wondered if seething distaste counted as a glare. If so, I was up to my seventh glare.

"For the hundredth time, you cannot say that word in front of students," he sighed, as though disciplining a particularly irksome child. He drew open the topmost drawer of his desk and handed me a fairly worn-looking book. It wasn't particularly thick, but one glance in it told me Severus had read it several times. He noticed my peculiar looks at him and the book and tapped his chin with one long index finger. "Some things that I do may be slightly off-colour," he said lightly. "Sometimes I have to check to make sure it's… well, allowed."

I grinned broadly. "I bet half the stuff you do isn't allowed."

"Actually, it is. Some things I do are frowned-upon, but I'm not stupid enough to lose my job over some snotty kids."

"There is nobody more perfect than you to teach young, eager wizards, Severus," I said sarcastically, staring him in the eye. "Has anybody ever told you that you're not very nice?"

"No!" Severus said, just as sarcastic as me. He looked at me, wide-eyed and frowning. It was quite terrifying. "Nobody's told me that I'm not very nice. Thank you! I'll be sure to have a long and hard think about my decisions in life."

Well, at least he wasn't glaring at me. And he'd said 'long and hard'. Heheh.

* * *

A/N: Hey! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Now I _have_ checked the hits for this story, and I know you guys are reading it but not reviewing! To be honest, I don't mind a lack of reviews personally, but the simple fact is that the more reviews a story gets, the more likely it is to be read. It took me a year to write this story (off and on, it wasn't like I was constantly doing it) so I'm pretty proud of myself, and I want as many people reading it as possible. It'll only take a second of your time and I'll be forever in your debt :) And if you're _not_ enjoying the story so far, hey man, I wrote these chapters a year ago. It does get better. And if you already think it's good, then HOLD ONTO YOUR PANTS BECAUSE IT GETS LEGENDARY. See you next chapter :)


	4. Impressive to Some

Thanks to all who reviewed. And to RadicalReason, yeah, the male students would be a bit gobsmacked, but Raphaela's so damn clueless about what's going on around her that she wouldn't notice in a million years. That's what I love about her :)

**Chapter Four: Impressive to Some**

Still uneasy under Severus' peculiar wide-eyed stare, I turned my gaze to the students. The young first-years looked terrified, milling around the store cupboard like ants, all too terrified to make the first move. They looked so mouse-like I wouldn't have been surprised if one of them had licked their hand and wiped it over their own face. I sensed Severus noticing my gaze and adjusting his own to see what was so interesting across the room. Sighing as though each child had done him a deep and personal wrong, he stood up, flinging his char back to the blackboard with the force. The resulting bang was loud enough for the first-years to swivel their heads as one and watch us in fear, like a school of fish changing directions suddenly and in complete synchrony.

"Idiots!" Severus cried, flinging his arms up in the air and making his robes fan out like oversized wings. "Why are you all just standing there? You should be collecting your ingredients! _Now_!" The students seemed to shrink before his terrifying gaze, but one brave girl piped up. Incidentally, she was the girl likened to Hermione Granger only minutes previous.

"Sir, it's just that we've never worked with these ingredients before, and these boxes and jars are unlabelled -"

"Mere common sense would tell you which ingredient is which, you idiot girl," he said, waving his wand. Bottles and jars flew from the cupboard and arranged themselves neatly on the shelf above the sinks. "These are the ingredients you will need for today's lesson in the correct order, for those of you who can't tell the difference between dittany and devil's snare. _That wasn't a question, foolish girl._" The bespectacled young first-year lowered her hand, looking disappointed.

"You know, I think she's right," I said, once Severus had made his way back to the desk and taken his seat. I had changed my position on the beanbag again – I was lying on my stomach facing him, my chin resting on my folded arms. "That cupboard is so untidy. Everything needs labels and shit."

"_Stop swearing in class-time, or I will report you to McGonagall._" His voice was little more than a whisper, but told of impending doom.

"Maybe I'll report _you _to McGonagall," I retorted. It was weak, but acceptable. Note to self: think of better comebacks than merely switching around his. He glared at me. Number eight.

"You're right, Vialle," he said, an evil-looking smirk on his face. "After classes end today, you will return here and sort out the potions ingredients."

Okay, he'd got me. He'd got me good. But little did he know, I had a little something else up my sleeve. "That sounds acceptable, Barry. The only thing is, I'm none too skilled at differentiation. I might mistake belladonna for monkshood and then where would we be? Someone's Hair-Removing Potion would blow up in their face and take off all their skin, and then we'd have a school full of skeletons. And that would be one creepy school."

"No excuses, Vialle. Your knowledge of what happens when belladonna is used in place of monkshood in that particular potion shows your aptitude, though I shudder to refer to you as having aptitude."

"Who's to say I won't deliberately mix up the ingredients to make you look bad?"

"Fine, I will supervise!" he nearly shouted, making the first-years pause from their futile attempts at lighting their fires to see what was going on. "But I'm bringing pumpkin juice, and you can't have any." He paled as I tried to stop myself bursting into laughter. "What I mean to say is, you will not be allowed to have any breaks for a refreshing beverage. You will work _hard_."

I winked at him, before turning away to help the first-years with their fire-lighting. Oh yes. I was _good_. I heard a quill snap behind me, as Severus turned his head slowly to glare at me, an incredulous look on his face.

"_Barry?!_"

"My name's Raphaela, you know," I said, smiling as though I had no idea what he was talking about. "If it's too difficult you can shorten it, if you like. Raph? Raphie? Ella? Phae? Your choice."

"Why did you call me Barry?" he seethed between his teeth. I could sense him still glaring at me. This was glare number nine. I smiled even more broadly. I sat on one student's desk, legs crossed and arms folded. I brought one hand up to my chin, as though thinking deeply, and stroked an imaginary beard.

"Well, Baz," I said finally, "It _may_ be because that's your name."

He continued to glare. "You know full well what my name is, Raphaela."

"Ha! You used my first name!" I cried, shoving my hand under a cauldron and sending fire shooting out of my fingertips. It lit with a small _phoo_ and the kid's eyes lit up to match, gazing at me in wonder.

"Can I learn to do that here?" the kid asked, pointing to my slightly singed hand. I blew out the small flames and watched the skin regrow, enjoying the first-year's amazement.

"I'm afraid not, young'un," I said, patting his head in a condescending sort of way. "Not here, anyway."

"You're a pyreshe?" came a sharp voice from the other side of the room as I went to light another fire. "Impossible."

"And why is it impossible, Barry?" I asked, winking at the Granger-girl. She smiled politely. I bent down to light her fire for her, before realizing that it was already ablaze. I nodded at her and gave her a thumbs-up, and her smile broadened.

"For a person to harness the powers of the fire element… not to mention regeneration… it takes years of meditation with only the highest magical beings." He was glaring at me, but I think it was still glaring from the Barry incident so I didn't count it as a new glare. I shrugged at him and half-smiled.

"So I did some traveling after I left the Hog. So what? Everyone does." I tried my best to look innocent, to further infuriate him. "I bummed around Europe for a while. Did you know I went four months in Russia without a coat? I had to spend another month in hospital for severe pneumonia, and they took a finger, but I got a replacement so it's cool." I wiggled my left pinky at him, still a slightly different colour to the rest of my skin. "I was pretty interested in getting an all-bone finger, no flesh or skin or anything, you know, just to creep people out, but they said I'd scare muggles."

"And once again you outdo yourself by proving that even if I don't care, you'll still keep saying things to me."

"You know it," I said, reclining on the beanbag once more. "Did I ever tell you about that time I studied under Nept Yemen?"

"We've known each other a day, Vialle, so no, you haven't. However, that was not an invitation to tell me – wait, you studied under Yemen?" Instead of the usual glare, Severus was looking at me in interest. I smilingly nodded, but kept my mouth shut. I wasn't going to tell him about Nept until he _begged _me. Hmm, maybe I'd tortured him long enough. And I pretty much just really wanted to tell him.

"Okay, well Nept was really cool, except strict, but aside from that he was cool, and I learned so much stuff, like this," I said, waving my left hand. Water began to drip from my palm onto the floor.

"Impressive," Severus said reluctantly, as if it caused him great physical pain to compliment me. I laughed at his discomfort.

"I can do a whole shitload of other stuff too, but that will be left for another time," I said cheerfully. Severus glared. Number ten.

"Do _not_ swear in front of the first-years."

"I'll do what I want, you're not my real dad," I joked, making a huffy face. However, the humor was lost on Severus and he simply kept glaring, now with a slightly perplexed look on his face.

"I wasn't aware of any fathering going on between you and I."

"Dickhead, that was the joke."

"Not in front of the students, Vialle. How many times must I tell you before it penetrates that thick skull of yours? Do I have to beat it into you with a hammer? Is that what I must do? Must I beat your head in? Because I will, if I must." He actually looked like he meant it, too. He was shooting me a look to kill, so I decided it was best to stop baiting him for the time being.

"I apologize, Severus," I said, nose in the air in my best impersonation of a fancy person. "I simply wished to liven up your day with my 'wacky antics'. I see my efforts go unappreciated."

"Clearly," he said stiffly, and went back to making notations on his paper.


	5. He’s Adorable and Yet So Disturbing

Just a little note to say thank-you to reviewers... you guys are so sweet.

**Chapter Five: He's Adorable and Yet So Disturbing**

I turned back to the class to see if anyone was encountering any trouble. One student, the boy who was so impressed with my fire, was sweating profusely as his cauldron was exuding thick, acid green smoke.

"You there!" I cried, pointing at the boy. "Did you stir it before or after you added the belladonna?"

"B – before, miss," he stammered, trembling. I hopped off the beanbag and walked over to his cauldron.

"Well, there's the problem. If the belladonna isn't properly stirred in it stays separate from the other ingredients, then when the potion reaches boiling point it burns and lets off this smoke. In fact, if you don't remedy this situation immediately we'll all pass out. Isn't that interesting?"

"Yes, miss," the boy said, looking like he wanted desperately to pass out. I clapped my hands together and walked over to the store cupboard, peering at the jars for a moment before extracting the small vial I needed and walking back to the boy's cauldron. I tapped the vial so that two drops were added into the boy's potion. The smoke immediately cleared and the potion turned the bright turquoise that it was meant to. "Wow!" he said, looking at me in wonder. I smiled.

"This is a simple enzyme, derived from dandelion seeds, that will help to break down any substance. It helped the belladonna integrate into the rest of the potion." I ruffled the boy's hair again, resisting the urge to call him 'champ' and make the patronizing party complete.

"Thanks, miss," he said, looking up at the blackboard to see the next line of instructions. It was to add three pinches of dried raspberry leaf mixed with a combination of bubotuber pus and lavender oil.

Bending down next to him, I whispered; "if you add an extra drop of lavender oil to the mixture it'll take away the horrid stench this potion usually has." He beamed at me. I was good. I was _really_ good. I could tell I was good because Severus was glaring at me again. Number eleven.

The rest of the lesson absolutely _flew_ by. Severus occasionally swept around the room, being his usual evil self, but mostly he was just writing stuff on that parchment of his. I figured he was just finishing some paperwork he hadn't got done during the holidays. I'd laughed to myself, thinking of the ornery professor too busy partying to do his duties. But before I knew it, it was the end of the lesson and the first-years were decanting their potions and scurrying away without a backwards look at the creepy professor.

"So, what's next?" I asked Severus, vanishing my beanbag and sitting on his desk, legs crossed. I placed my hands behind me on the table and looked over at him, smiling benignly. "Who are we teaching now?"

"Seventh-years," he said, not even looking at me. "Even if you can dazzle the first-years with your _party tricks_, I daresay the seventh-years will be less receptive of your attempts to befriend them."

"We'll just see about that, you grumpy old fool," I muttered, so that he could hear me. He glared. Number twelve. That man had to be taught a lesson, so I waved my arms above my head. A small breeze wafted in through the open door, causing Severus to sneer.

"I'm slightly colder than I was before. I'm so very impressed," he droned in a monotone, sending the thirteenth glare my way. Lucky thirteen, I figured, as I smiled to myself and stood up. He hadn't noticed it yet, but the wind was picking up. It began to flip some of his papers up into the air and cause his robes to flap in the wind, and soon enough there was a small hurricane centered on his desk. Though he was trying his hardest to pretend he was unaffected by my powers, it was becoming more and more difficult as he began to have trouble keeping his feet on the ground. However, when a letter opener zoomed past my face, narrowly missing my eye, I decided enough was enough. With a snap of my fingers, the hurricane died down and his papers were returned to their original positions on the desk. I could see how impressed he was now. Nept had said he'd never encountered anyone who could revert objects to their original placements after invoking the air element so forcefully. And didn't Severus just know it. He was itching to tell me off, I could see that just by looking at his furious face. "Well, aren't we just the proudest little child of the class."

"I'm twenty-seven, Barry, I'm hardly a child," I said, trying to maintain an evenly annoyed tone of voice.

"_WILL YOU STOP CALLING ME BARRY!_"

At a small giggle, I turned to my right, only to see a group of seventh-years standing in the doorway, looking at me in awe. Upon realizing they had been seen, they began to file into the room, taking their seats and waiting patiently for their instructions. All the while, they were staring at me with a mixture of awe and curiosity. I couldn't blame them.

"Er… hi there, kids," I said, raising a hand. They bristled. "I mean, uh, students. Hey students. I'm Raphaela Vialle, I'm going to be here for a while, I'm training to be a teacher or something. So, if you have any questions, I'm pretty good at potions and shit like that, and I promise I'll be nicer than Severus."

"I thought his name was Barry," one boy called out, to laughter from the rest of the class. Oh yes. I was _in_.

"Stop swearing in front of the students, Vialle, or I will have you forcibly removed from this school," Severus seethed at me through clenched teeth. I turned and smiled broadly at him.

"Oh, you," I said, flopping a hand in his direction. "So adorable when you think you're being intimidating." The students laughed once more. If there was one thing this man was not, it was adorable. He looked at me, a glare of bewildered outrage plastered across his pallid face. Fourteen.

"I will say this once and once only, Raphaela Vialle," he said, speaking so low that I was sure the students wouldn't be able to hear. It unnerved me somewhat, but I kept a straight face in spite of it all. "You are not here to interfere, annoy, or pester. You are here to learn. If you say one… more… _word_ to me this lesson, I _will_ kill you."

He actually looked serious. I decided to call his bluff, speaking as quietly as he was. "You said you wouldn't let snotty kids cost you your job," I said, leaning forwards and angling my upper arms inwards somewhat. Even if he were grumpy and crotchety, he was still male, and a little cleavage could work wonders in the right situations. I mean, it had to have been _decades_ since Severus had last had… relations. Not that I made a habit of thinking about his sex life, because that was one visual I certainly did not need. It just went without saying. I mean, who was he going to... y'know? McGonagall? Yeuch. Suddenly, I couldn't remember what I'd been saying to Severus. It didn't seem to matter though, because he opened his mouth to retort.

"Your pathetic life will cost me nothing," he said, his voice so low I could barely hear it. He seemed to be speaking without moving his jaw at all, and keeping his mouth as small as possible. "I do not think one encounters many teachers on the walk from the staff chambers to the dungeons, especially at seven in the morning. And there are creatures in the Forbidden Forest who would gladly take care of any… excess meat I had lying around."

Okay, it was terrifying. Pants-wettingly so. He was shooting me a look to kill and I felt as though my insides were shriveling up under his fifteenth glare. I felt sick. I was going to throw up all over him. But then, I realised what he'd said. "Well, Severus, if you have an excess then I'm sure McGonagall has a lovely receptacle for your meat." I covered my mouth with my hands as I giggled uncontrollably, and then some chuckles from the students arose and I realised I'd said it quite a bit louder than I'd intended. I went beet red, but didn't avert my gaze from Severus'. Our eyes were locked over the corner of his desk, and it seemed inexplicably as though his black irises were growing larger. Or was it just my eyes playing tricks on me? The latter seemed more likely, as I didn't think there was a spell that would make your irises larger. Even if there was, why would Severus bother to cast it when we were in the middle of a stare-off? Unless he wanted to completely freak me out and make me doubt everything I knew. That seemed logical. But then, why stop at an iris-expander spell? Why not cast a spell to turn his eyes bright purple? That would certainly weird me out, but I guess it wasn't really his style. He probably would cast an iris-expanding spell actually. Yeah, that's what he'd do. "_Cheater!_" I cried, jabbing a finger towards him. "You cast a spell!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Vialle," he said, and his eyes looked normal again. Maybe it had been just a trick of my eyes. The next part was so quiet I had to strain to hear it, and even then I wasn't sure if I'd heard it properly at all. "And McGonagall isn't going anywhere _near_ my meat."

No. He didn't say that. He couldn't have said that. He doesn't talk about _that_. He doesn't think about that.

"And put your fucking tits away."

Okay, this time I was _sure_ I'd misheard. He did _not_ say that. Severus Snape does not swear. He does not talk about _relations_. He does not say the word 'tits'. I think 'bosoms' would be more his style. Yes, I was sure he said something like 'put your gosh-darned bosoms away'. Of course, he doesn't even refer to _bosoms_. I'm sure I misheard. He said 'put the far kintix away.' He was referring to the kintix over at the far corner of the room, and he wanted me to put it away for him. I had no idea what a kintix is, but I was sure it was a real and valid ingredient that is absolutely _integral_ in potionmaking. I didn't see any potions ingredients anywhere aside from the ones on the shelf he had taken out for the first-years, but I decided to err on the side of keeping my fucking sanity and not ask what a kintix was. I'd just safely assume that he'd referred to the legendary kintix and sit quietly for the rest of the lesson, trying not to think about _anything_.


	6. A Bad Start

**Chapter Six: A Bad Start**

Unfortunately, when one strives to not think of a particular subject, it is inevitably that subject that continues to stray into one's mind. So when I made the decision to try not to think about Severus and McGonagall getting it on, the visual just kept coming back into my head. It was like being told not to think of a giant pink elephant. It only worked as long as you didn't think about it, but when you congratulated yourself for not thinking about it, there it comes again. It was like having a cut on the inside of your mouth that you just _know_ would go away if you'd stop touching it with your tongue, but you just have to, just to check if it really _is _healing. It was like… no, I was out of similes. My mind cleared once more and I was left only with the image of the two professors doing _that_. I must not have got enough sleep the previous night, because my eyes started to close and everything went a bit fuzzy. A distant voice came to me and I ignored it, though that proved very difficult when it continued to speak. I thought perhaps it was calling out my name, or something that sounded very much like my name. Then in an instant, I forgot exactly what my name was. Good thing I had someone calling it out for me.

"Raphaela… Raphaela… Raphaela… RAPHAELA!"

"IjerSevdoinit?" I shouted out, my eyes snapping open. The classroom was empty and dead silent. I turned on my beanbag to see Severus staring at me, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. "Sorry," I said. "Sometimes when I'm half asleep I shout things without meaning to. Also sometimes I drool in my sleep, which is kind of gross. It's usually only when I've got a cold though." Ah, of course. Of course when I said that, I immediately realised that I _had_ been drooling and it was on my face. I quickly raised a hand to get it off, hoping against hope that he hadn't noticed. Granted, it was only Severus, but still. I didn't want him to think I was completely disgusting.

"That… is… fascinating." The look on his face was a cross between confusion and annoyance, and he stood up, placing his papers in the drawer under his desk. I wondered, not for the first time, what he'd been writing. "I would not have disturbed you… the lack of your voice is a pleasant break for me… but it is lunchtime, and I reasoned that if you missed it, I would never hear the end of it."

"Yeah right, Barry," I said cheerfully, jumping off the beanbag. My skirt flew up at the back and I pushed it back down hurriedly, hoping he hadn't seen my underpants. Not that there was anything wrong with my underpants, they were absolutely _lovely_, but I still didn't want him to see my pants. "You woke me up because you care about my stomach's feelings. Why don't you marry it if you love it so much?"

His bewildered slash irritated look seemed to double as he delivered a withering glare my way. How many was that now? Sixteen, I figured. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He turned on his heel and swept out of the classroom, and I skipped along merrily behind him. Annoying Severus was quite possibly the most fun I'd had in a long time, and as a great man once said; 'the most fun I can have without being forced to cuddle afterwards'. I felt like he was a black, evil raincloud, and I was the fun rainbow bunny that sprinkled joy and happiness to all the girls and boys in his wake. An Easter bunny, perhaps? That was the visual my mind was bringing forth. It was a nice one, me in a big pink bunny suit hopping around him like I was now, pelting kids with Easter eggs disguised as atom bombs, and him in a big black cloud suit. But how would that even work? Wait a minute, Easter eggs disguised as atom bombs? My mind must have been punishing me for missing breakfast. No matter though, for we were just about to reach the Great Hall for lunch. Upon entering it, I was struck by a sudden wave of confusion – where do I sit? I wasn't really a teacher, but I was far from being a student. Eventually, my sluggish mind woke up enough to realise that there were two empty seats at the staff table and all the teachers were present and accounted for. That was that, I was sitting with the teachers. It was a nice feeling, once I'd sat down between Severus and Professor Flitwick. I'd wanted to be a teacher since I started school, and for the first time in my life, I felt at home at the staff table of Hogwarts.

"This is usually the time when we eat the lunch, Vialle," came a low, snide voice to my left, and I saw Severus watching me with an unreadable look on his face. "Or did your parents forget about teaching you to eat when they forgot to teach you when to stop talking?"

I realised I'd been sitting motionless in front of the food for a few minutes and I snapped myself out of it, surveying the lunch options. There were pies, but I wasn't really a big fan of meat. Fortunately, there were also platters of sandwiches, and I ate those joyfully. If there was one thing I loved, it was a platter of sandwiches. There was something particularly lovely about seeing a plethora of different kinds of fillings and being able to choose whatever you fancied. Before I knew it, I'd scarfed down half a platter and Severus was giving me another odd look.

"What is it?" I said, trying not to spray him with bits of sandwich. My current sandwich was particularly delicious; it was salady and chickeny with some kind of delicious spicy tomato saucy stuff. "You jealous of my awesome sandwich?"

"You've certainly got an appetite," he simply said, before returning to his own lunch. He was clearly jealous. I guess I did have the last one of that particular variety, but he could have had one that was practically exactly the same but with cheese in it. Perhaps he was lactose intolerant? Or maybe he was on a diet and he couldn't be sure if the cheese was low-fat. But which was it? I had no way of telling just by looking at him, as the steak and kidney pie he was consuming held no clues either way. It was consuming me. It was eating me up inside. I had to know. I simply had to.

"Excuse me, are you lactose intolerant?" I finally blurted out. I received a look of utmost bemusement, in fact, had I not seen this expression, I would have said that shaping your face this way was impossible. But I guess that to show me exactly what he thought of my question, Severus could just bend the laws of face-physics.

"What?" was his response, a few moments later. His face was still contorted strangely and it was beginning to unnerve me.

"Do you have a lactose intolerance?" I repeated, slightly louder this time. "You know? Maybe when you have some milk, you throw up everywhere? Get a nasty rash? Ice cream off-limits?" To be honest, I had no idea what happened when a lactose-intolerant person had lactose, but I figured that most allergies had something to do with rashes or sick. Or swelling. "Any strange swellings of the throatal glands?" Okay, so 'throatal' isn't exactly a word. But I didn't care.

"Insane," he said. "Absolutely insane."

"But… I have to know!" I cried, discarding the last of my sandwich on my plate. He glanced at it and I realised I'd been had. It had all been a clever ruse to try and lure me away from my sandwich. My delicious, sweet sandwich that never meant anyone any harm at all. He'd purposefully avoided cheese so that I'd be consumed with a burning passion to find out about his dietary requirements. "It was all a trick! You just wanted my sandwich! Well I've got news for you, Barry!" I picked up my sandwich and gave him a big, angry glare, "You get NONE!" And I shoved the whole thing into my mouth. Now, let me tell you, with a mouth very, very full of sandwich, you become very aware of what's in your mouth, and even more aware of what your teeth are doing, and even _more_ aware of what the food must look like now it's been chewed up a bit. And on top of all that, apparently my little shouting episode had drawn some attention. By 'some', I mean 'the entire Great Hall'. They were staring at me. With my cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's, full of sandwich, and me trying to suppress my gag reflex at the sandwich mush in my mouth so that half the school's first impression of me wasn't vomit-tastic.

It wasn't the best first day at work.


	7. Boys Don’t Cry, Their Mascara Will Run

Hi! Just a little Author's Note! Three topics!

First: Okay, so I usually update every day but this update was kind of late... well, if I'm skipping my lectures to get pissed then I'm not exactly going to be running to a computer to update, you know? Anyway, long story short, due to alcohol-related commitments, I haven't been at home for a few days so I'm sorry to anyone who expected a quicker update.

Second: Oh my god, how much of a mindfuck is Reader Traffic?! An amazing hello and THANK YOU FOR READING to the readers from Iceland, Chile and India, to name a few! My god, I'd actually thought that ffn was populated entirely by Americans (me being the solitary exception). Now I feel stupid. Well, I didn't _actually_ think that, but it's the kind of thing that you don't really acknowlege, right?

Third: A hugetastic thank you to everyone who has reviewed! You guys are so sweet and you really make my day. I'm so glad people actually like Raphaela.

**Chapter Seven: Boys Don't Cry, Their Mascara Will Run**

After lunch, the rest of the day absolutely flew by. It felt like I was just starting to get into the hang of things when Severus began shouting at me to leave and chasing me out of the dungeon with a broom. Ah, his wacky mannerisms. Eventually my stomach started to hurt from laughing at the vision of him chasing me with a broom, and I gently reminded him that I was supposed to stay and sort the potions ingredients. By 'gently reminded', I mean that I stole his broom and hit him in the head with it multiple times while shouting at him. I guess we both have our wacky mannerisms after all. I could even have sworn that I saw him release a reluctant snort of laughter, but I concede that it could have been a sneeze. It really is hard to tell with him, and I _had_ been thwacking him about the face with a very dirty, dusty broom.

"Bless you?" I said cautiously, just in case it was a sneeze. I didn't want to appear rude, after all. In light of my newfound non-rudeness, I even (quite charitably) stopped hitting him with the broom. He looked at me with a peculiar, somewhat confused look on his face and I entertained the notion that perhaps it _had_ been a laugh after all. "Or not, maybe?"

"It's peculiar," he said, taking the broom from me somewhat gently and resting it against a corner, "I don't recall you being this foolish when you attended the school."

"Aww, you remember me!" I squeaked, wiping a pretend tear from under my eye. "That's _so_ sweet of you."

"It was ten years ago, it's vague," he explained defensively, turning away to move towards the door. "You were good at Potions. I tend to remember good students." He left the dungeon and I was left alone with his odd compliment. It was the first time he had actually said something nice to me without a look on his face like he was giving birth to a particularly scratchy watermelon. I decided to savor the moment, and savor I did, closing my eyes and breathing in the sweet oxygen of a compliment. After what seemed like only a few moments the dungeon door opened again and Severus was back, with his pumpkin juice. He set it down on his desk and glared at me. Glare number seventeen.

"You get none!" he snapped, pointing at the store cupboard. "Now you will sort and label, just like you said." He had a horrible, cruel smile on his face but I didn't care, I was still glowing from his compliment. He thought I was a _good student_. Though, I figured, he wouldn't say that if he'd seen me in my other classes. I almost failed Care of Magical Creatures because inexplicably, every animal I was assigned to care for died. None of those times were my fault, I'd done everything by the book, but sometimes animals can conspire against you and die, leaving you to look like a mass animal murderer and making the Professor regard you with a mixture of disgust, fear and blinding rage. I think I was just really unlucky and assigned to all the dud animals. Like that baby acromantula that bit itself while I was trying to feed it. Stupid venomous spiders, not even knowing that they're venomous. Or the ashwinder that swallowed its own tail and died when it digested itself. Or the bowtruckle that wasn't watching where it was going and ran into the fire. Oh, and there was the crup that I had to take care of for the night that _somehow_ got into my trunk and drank my perfume. It was my favourite one, too. It smelled like vanilla crossed with incense. And who could forget my spectacular drowning grindylow? Yes, a creature who lives _at the bottom of lakes_ actually drowned under my care. And did anyone believe me when I said that my fire crab had just blown itself up? I don't think so! I even killed a flobberworm, but that time it kind of was my fault, because I might've accidentally stepped on it. But the point is, to Kettleburn, I was a cold-blooded animal murderer. He wanted to fail me, but I did okay on theory and the final exams so it balanced itself out and I scraped a pass. Oh, and the horror that was Divination! I had it on a Friday morning and I usually came to class a bit… shall we say, hungover. One time I made the prediction that I'd soon be visiting an old friend who was short, round and porcelain, but Trelawney didn't think it was very funny. That was odd, because I've seen the amount she can drink and you'd think that the world of alcohol-related humor would be her forte. But apparently not.

Oh, for Merlin's sake. I'd been standing in front of the store cupboard for about four minutes, lost in my thoughts. I really needed to do something about my bad habit of going off on a mental tangent. Like this one time at the start of term for my sixth year, I almost missed the train because I'd been lost in thought about what I would say to Adam Ant if I ever met him in person. It was the eighties, and I'd had a thing for guys in makeup, just like every other girl. It wasn't weird. What was weird was my Cyndi Lauper haircut and horrific vinyl pants. Come to think of it, I still owned those pants. I was just wondering if I could still squeeze into them when I realised I'd gone off on another mental tangent and still hadn't made a start on sorting the potions ingredients. With a sigh, I trudged into the store cupboard and took down the first box. I set it down on the dungeon floor, figuring the best way to do it would be to get all of the boxes and jars out and then see to identifying and sorting them.

"So what do you think of guys in makeup, Severus?" I asked conversationally, noticing that he was watching me. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked moderately confused.

"What?"

"Well, when I was sixteen I was convinced I was going to marry Adam Ant – good thing I didn't though, have you seen him lately? Yeuch! And there was always something about Roger Taylor in that schoolgirl outfit with all the makeup that made my knees go weak."

"Who?"

"And oh my god, Robert Smith. No man rocks lipstick like that man rocks lipstick."

"Who?"

"I don't know though, some guys just end up looking like bad transvestites. Most of them look pretty good with a bit of eyeliner on though."

"This conversation seems somewhat one-sided," he said, narrowing his eyes at me while I continued to unload boxes. "Why don't I leave, and you can have a conversation with my desk? I'm sure you'll be able to keep the conversation going by talking enough for the both of you."

"Have you ever worn makeup?" I asked, pretending I didn't hear him. "I think you'd look okay with just a tiny bit of eyeliner. What say you?"

"No," he said loudly and determinedly. "No to everything you have ever, or will ever say to me. No."

"So… did you test negative for syphilis? No? Oh Severus, you really need to quit the rock and roll lifestyle, it's going to kill you." I affected a look of mock-concern for this, but all I got in return was the oddest look I'd ever seen. It looked like his rage was fighting to make itself known, but his bewilderment was ultimately stronger and they compromised by showing a half-rage, half-confusion face that was terrifying, to say the least. It was my eighteenth glare and my first day wasn't even out yet. I was so good at irritating Severus I was thinking of doing it professionally. There wouldn't be any shortage of people willing to pay me to infuriate the ornery old professor, and I'd have so much job satisfaction I'd fart rainbows. Wait, gross. Why did I just think that?

"You will be the death of me, Vialle."

"If I do my job right."


	8. Poison, Pasties and Pants

**Chapter Eight: Poison, Pasties and Pants**

There's one good thing that can be said for sorting Potions ingredients… actually, no there isn't. There is absolutely nothing good about sorting Potions ingredients. It is indubitably the dullest, most tedious task anyone could ever be assigned in the history of forever. Though, I concede, sometimes it was livened up when jars emitted disgusting smells or caustic gases. And by 'livened up', I mean 'I feared for my life', but hey, same thing, right? Inhaling a few lungfuls of flesh-dissolving gas wouldn't kill me. Well, it would, but luckily Severus was supervising and he knew that me screaming in agony and writhing around on the floor was code for 'please, be a dear and fetch me a bezoar. No rush.' I did love our secret little language we had with each other. By the end of the night, he could tell by the exact pitch and duration of my screams what was killing me, not that it mattered. He certainly complained about having to put in an order for more bezoars, because apparently my ineptitude was severely depleting the stores. I was just putting the last jar up on the shelf when he showed me an empty box. My confusion must have showed, because for once, he spoke first.

"This is a box," he said slowly, and I stared.

"Are you sure?" I asked, putting a mock-thoughtful face on, hands on hips. "Because I thought it was a set of curtains."

"If you'll allow me the courtesy of completing a sentence," he said coldly, "It is a box which once was full of bezoars. You used the last one when you _tasted_ the Belladonna."

"I did not!" I cried indignantly. "I was just trying to take the lid off and it was stuck and I pulled it and it flew at my face and I had my mouth open and _it wasn't my fault!_" Severus actually began to look frightened at my loud, whiny outburst, which I did not expect one bit. Professor Snape, _frightened_? Penguins would fly before he showed fear. But I supposed I was rather frightening, with my imposing presence. Actually, I'm pretty much the opposite of imposing. I'd lose an arm wrestle against Flitwick, with my muscles. Or lack thereof. And I'm not even that tall. Severus and I were pretty even-matched when it came to height. He might have been a bit taller by an inch or so, but it was close.

"Why are you staring at the top of my head?" he asked, bringing me crashing back to reality. I really had to do something about these mental tangents.

"I was wondering how much taller than me you are," I said, putting a hand on the top of my head then moving it towards him slowly. He furrowed his eyebrows and slapped my hand away, but didn't glare this time. Rather, he opened and closed his mouth several times, as though going to say something each time but never deciding on what to say. Finally, he said a single word vehemently.

"_Why?!_"

"I wanted to know how imposing I was?" I said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and I had to spell it out for him. Some people these days, maybe Severus should just learn to read minds or something. Then he wouldn't be as confused around me. Because I _had_ confused him, I'd pretty much been bewildering him nonstop since I arrived here. I figured that anyone not privy to my private thoughts and feelings wouldn't know what I was on about most of the time, but usually after people get to know me they just dismiss most of what I say as just Crazy Raphaela being Crazy Raphaela. I suppose I am kind of mad, in a say-anything-that-pops-into-my-head kind of way. It's not the best way to live, maybe, but it had worked for me so far, in that I'd spent a day working closely with Severus Snape and I hadn't been murdered yet. He'd even deigned to save my life about fifty times with those bezoars, though I figured that if he didn't then he'd be arrested for manslaughter. Though he could probably talk his way out of it, couldn't he? Maybe he didn't have to save my life, but he did anyway because I'd grown on him. He'd grown accustomed to my face! It was so sweet of him not to leave me to die in horrible agony on his dungeon floor like that. Must remember to buy him a thank-you scarf. Meanwhile, he was still staring at me with his furrowed brows and piercing stare.

"Imposing," he repeated, folding his arms and effectively reminding me of what I'd said before going off on yet another mental tangent. "You couldn't be imposing if you tried. You're as imposing as a baby rabbit."

"Well… you're very imposing, so I guess we make a good team," I said, remembering my thought as we'd gone to lunch. "You're the black rain cloud and I'm in the bunny suit, throwing Easter eggs disguised as atom bombs."

"What?" he said, sounding as though he was putting his all into every letter of the word. "Have you gone completely mad?"

"Eh, getting there," I said, shrugging with a smile on my face. "Good god, is that the time? We've completely missed dinner." Severus looked scandalized as he checked the clock on the wall, which showed that it was nearly midnight. He turned back around and glared at me, glare number eighteen.

"Wonderful. You've made us miss dinner with your fooling around with the ingredients," he said, grabbing my upper arm and beginning to practically drag me over to the doorway. After calmly (if by 'calmly' I mean 'using lots of shouting and swears') explaining to him that being poisoned was _not_ fooling around, and who has he been fooling around with if he thinks that's what it is, we reached the doorway. I wondered if he was going to throw me out and slam the door behind me in a very cartoonish sort of way, but he just led me out of it, around a few corners and up and down some staircases, until we came to a painting of a fruit bowl.

"Oh, the kitchens! I forgot about these," I said, slapping a hand to my forehead. "Ha! This proves once again that you care about my stomach!"

"I have proven time and time again my utter disdain for you, Raphaela," he said, but I wasn't fooled. He'd used my first name and he _cared_ about my stomach. "All you have eaten today are sandwiches at lunch. Granted, you ate enough of them to sustain an elephant, but nevertheless, it was only one meal. If you make skipping breakfast a habit, you'll pass out in the dungeons and I'll have to take your unconscious body up to the hospital wing, meaning you are wasting my time even more than you would awake. Am I in any way unclear?"

"Not at all, sir," I squeaked. Sir? Why had I just said that? Maybe I'd just been reminded of what he was like when I was a student. At any rate, it was weird, and I could tell he was weirded out too by the look on his face. It wasn't a glare, but it was one of his weird, piercing stares that made me feel uncomfortable. "Your courtesy ends with your convenience."

"I'm glad we understand each other," he said, with an odd half-smile on his face. "I do concede, I couldn't have put it better myself."

"Ha!" I cried, pointing at him. "You _wish_ you hated me, but I'm growing on you, aren't I?"

"Like a fungus," he said flatly, tickling the pear on the painting. It turned into a handle, which he pulled and entered. I was left to follow him in, and the house-elves milled around us with huge grins on their faces. After a few minutes of Severus standing stiffly and uncomfortably among the tiny, smiling creatures, we left with a huge platter of food. I put it down in the corridor and sat by it, shoving a party pie into my mouth whole. He looked down at me, eyebrows raised.

"Wha'?" I said, with a mouth full of pastry and meat. "Istarven."

"Excuse me?" He still had that stiff, uncomfortable look about him, but I figured it was just because of the house-elves and he'd shake it off in a few minutes. I mean, they were kind of creepy, but they were so nice and polite that I had to wonder why he was so weird around them.

"I'm starving. Now sit down before I break your legs and you can't stand up. These pasties aren't going to eat themselves." Surprisingly, he complied, sitting on the dusty hallway floor and picking up a sandwich. I saw that it was the kind of sandwich I had been eating at lunch, chickeny and salady with that delicious sauce. "Ha! I knew you wanted my sandwich before," I said triumphantly.

"Don't flatter yourself or your sandwich," he said after swallowing. "I had no designs on your sandwich."

"You did," I argued, smiling broadly. "And you noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"You said; 'if you make skipping breakfast a habit'. You noticed I wasn't at breakfast this morning."

"Of course I noticed, you nincompoop," he said, shooting the nineteenth glare my way. "Your seat is next to mine."

"Nincompoop?" I said with a laugh, raising my eyebrows at him. He gave me a sidelong glare (but I figured it was just the aftershock of the previous glare) as he selected a pasty. "Who says that?"

"I do," he said lightly, taking a bite from the pasty. He wrinkled his nose and set it back down on the platter. "I can't stand turkey."

"Man, I love turkey!" I said exuberantly, snatching the pasty and shoving it into my mouth whole. He looked moderately concerned and disgusted at the same time as he watched me intently. It was making me a bit uncomfortable, so I brought my knees up to my face and hid behind that. Severus made an odd noise somewhere in front of me so I brought my head back up, swallowing the pasty and attempting to look confused enough that he'd tell me why he was suddenly in the business of making odd noises. "What is it?"

"Perhaps," he said delicately, staring at something about three feet above my head, "it would be best to sit in a different position, considering your choice of attire today."

Oh, bloody hell. He could see my underpants. Fantastic.


	9. A Rose by Any Other Name

**Chapter Nine: A Rose by Any Other Name**

After I'd rapidly changed positions so that my underpants were no longer on show, Severus saw fit to look at me again. I was mortified to say the least, but one look at his rapidly reddening cheeks showed me that he was embarrassed too. Good, now he'll know that it is _not polite_ to look at someone's underpants when they've forgotten they're not wearing any pants and accidentally flash him. Why hasn't he been taught that already? But I supposed that he _did _make an effort to look somewhere else, and he was almost polite when he informed me of said wardrobe malfunction. The silence was beginning to grow heavy upon us, but for once I was completely lost for words. What do you say to someone who's just seen your underpants? Would you like a souvenir photo of your experience? That'd go down well. Play your cards right and you get to keep them? Yeuch, then he'd think I was hitting on him. But then, it'd certainly make him feel more uncomfortable and embarrassed than I did. However, I doubted that making a pass at him was going to make the situation any less tense. I needed help. I needed some kind of self-help book that told me exactly how to act in every situation. Chapter One: So Your Colleague Who Used to Be Your Teacher Just Saw Your Underpants: What to Do When You've Given Him an Eyeful. Unfortunately, my fantasy book didn't hold any answers. 'Your mind has the answer to every riddle you must solve'. Yeah right, Nept Yemen, you're full of crap. Oh pooh, I hope he didn't telepathically hear my thoughts just then. Sorry Nept, you're not full of crap, you're very wise and all that.

"So…" said Severus from across the platter, who was opening sandwiches to see what fillings lurked within. I was incomparably grateful to him for breaking the silence like that, but with that line? Come on, trained monkeys could think of a better line than that. Never mind that I couldn't. "Do you usually eat other people's half-eaten food?"

"Oh, so we're back to the turkey pasty, are we?" I said in an accusatory tone. His head snapped up and he looked bemused and bewildered, but then he noticed the huge grin on my face and realised I was just kidding. He even cracked a half-smile, which bemused and bewildered me in return. "In answer to your question… I guess I just don't like to waste good pasties."

"It doesn't seem too hygienic, Vialle," he said sternly. Great, and we were back to last-name terms. Well, two can play at that game, _Snape_. I glared at him and took a sip of pumpkin juice from one of the fancy glass bottles the house-elves had given us with dinner.

"For your information, Snape, introducing small amounts of bacteria into the body is very good for your immune system," I said smugly as I picked up a sandwich and bit into it. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was full of tuna salad, another of my favourites.

"That's the first time you haven't used my first name," he said, sounding mildly surprised. I looked up at him, and then he looked even more surprised that he'd noticed. Ha! He'd noticed. He totally pays attention to the things that I say.

"I used your surname all through school, Snape," I said coolly. If he was going to continue with this name standoff, I wasn't going to back down. "Besides, you started it. You called me Vialle."

"I always call you that," he said. "Why does it affect you differently now?" He didn't seem all that interested in an answer; I think he just wanted to get his point across. Nevertheless, I would answer the call of duty.

"Because you called me Raphaela before we went into the kitchens, and a twice when we were in the dungeons. Thrice! That's three times." I'd intended for it to come out in a completely normal tone, but instead it ended up sounding high-pitched and rushed. What was the deal with that? There was no reason for me to be talking strangely all of a sudden. At any rate Severus – I mean _Snape_ – didn't seem to notice, as he picked at a corned beef sandwich with a lack of enthusiasm.

"And what does it matter to you what name I give you?"

Bloody hell. He'd never change, this man. Bloody well impossible to deal with, just impossible. You'd think that since we have to work together for Merlin knows how long, he could at least _try_ to make friends. It could have been fun if he'd _tried_. I'm fun sometimes, when I'm not being metaphorically suffocated by a grumpy old bat whose hobbies include being a jerk to me and being a jerk to his students. I put my sandwich down on the platter quite a bit harder than I'd intended, so some mayonnaise came splattering out onto the shining silver platter. It got his attention, anyway. He didn't look angry or bewildered this time, he was just staring at me with mild curiosity on his face. His eyebrows were… I'd say semi-furrowed. He was looking at me as though I was Richard Attenborough and he was particularly interested in the animal I was talking about in my Richard Attenborough voice. Oh, now I knew I hadn't gotten enough sleep last night. I couldn't even form a coherent simile anymore. Anyway, on with business. I stood up straight, raising my head to tower over him. He adopted a completely new facial expression – which surprised me, because I thought he only had Angry and Bewildered – and he now looked as though he'd gone out to his letterbox, expecting a letter, but found it to be empty. Merlin's beard, my similes were getting worse by the minute. I needed to hurry this dramatic exit up and get some sleep before I likened his face to… to… sweet Merlin, now I couldn't even think of a bad simile! I had to get a move on. Turning on my heel after making a sharp exhalation through my nose, I began to storm off down the corridor.

"Raphaela," he called out from behind me, but since his tone didn't seem at all apologetic I ignored it and kept walking. It sounded sharper, like I was a child and he was reprimanding me for eating too many sweets before dinnertime. I was so angry (and why? For the life of me I couldn't remember exactly what he'd done) that I made sure to storm – not walk – all the way back to my sleeping quarters, as though he could hear my shoes tapping on the stone floors from wherever he was in the castle. I put on my pyjamas and got into bed, feeling my anger fade away somewhat now that I'd calmed down. It seemed silly, now that I was lying in bed and not sitting across from the infuriating man. He'd been right, it didn't matter to me in the slightest what he called me. I'd just been irritable from lack of sleep, and the multitudinous near-death-experiences I'd had that evening. The thought of sleep made me relax into my soft, squashy pillows, and I felt myself beginning to drift off into slumber's warm embrace. The last coherent thought I had was the realization that he'd used my first name again as I'd stormed away…

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A/N: Don't forget to review! Remember, more positive reviews more readers, which is the ultimate goal! Thanks :)


	10. I Dream Of Yeuch!

**Chapter Ten: I Dream of… Yeuch!**

It was the banging open of my door that woke me up. I sat up straight in my bed from the shock, still with a fuzzy, sleep-addled brain. It felt like there was a large quantity of cotton wool between my ears and my eyes felt heavy and bleary. One thing was for sure, I definitely had not gotten enough sleep. That made two nights of horrible deprivation, and I wasn't happy with it, not one bit. The first night, I conceded, was entirely due to pre-first day nerves, but the second I could blame entirely on that insufferable git, Severus Snape. I put my hands to my face and pushed my hair away, rubbing my eyes as I went.

"Bloody Snape," I muttered, looking at the clock beside my bed. It was 10.52am. Oh, holy holy shit. I'd overslept and missed the first lesson and part of the second. Why hadn't my alarm woken me like it was supposed to?

"What have I done this time, Vialle?" came a cool voice from somewhere near the bed. My head snapped up in a shot and I stared, wondering how I could have possibly forgotten the door banging that had awoken me so abruptly. Severus was standing by the bed, looking oddly stiff and uncomfortable just like the previous night. He looked different though, somehow. "Aside from actually being on time to my classes, unlike you."

"It's your fault! You kept me up all night," I argued, thumping my fists down on the bedspread.

"Get up! You have to get up! Look, it's 2.30 in the afternoon now! How can you have missed all of these classes?" He motioned towards the clock, which indeed said that it was 2.30pm. How was that even possible? I must have been sitting in bed for hours. "_And_ you don't even have any clothes on!" Oh sweet Merlin, he was right. Where had my pyjamas gone? And for that matter, where was my bedspread? I was sure it was here before.

"How are all these things happening?" I cried out, covering myself with a pillow.

"Now, that's not necessary," Severus muttered, motioning towards the pillow and moving closer…

"_Aaaaaaaaargh!_" This time I woke up for real, screaming in unbridled terror and covered in a cold sweat. Someone was pounding on my door relentlessly. "_What?_"

"Raphaela!" came a voice from the other side of the door. I pushed my hair back and looked at the clock – 9.15am. Great. I'd overslept, just like in my stupid no-clothes dream. Oh no. I was wearing my pyjamas this time, right? I looked down and saw that it was indeed the case; I hadn't just taken off all my clothes in my sleep. Do people do that? Does that happen? For the sake of anyone who might burst into my room while I was asleep, I hoped the answer was no. I got out of bed and my feet turned to ice blocks as they hit the stone floor. I yelped and hopped around the room like I was a ritual dancer until I found a pair of socks to put on. Once that arduous task was complete, I wrenched open the door, only to see Severus standing in the doorway, looking furious.

"Good morning, sunshine," I said, trying to look cheerful. I couldn't let on about that odd, horribly disturbing dream I'd had about him only seconds previous. It was too horrible even to remember, let alone telling _him_ of what happened. He'd probably think I'd gone mad, or that I had some kind of a raging infatuation with him. The first one was certainly true, given my dreaming material. The second one, not so much. One thing was for sure, I had to take this particular secret to my grave. "I was just dreaming about you." Damnit!

"Fascinating," he said, though he clearly felt it was anything but. "Need I remind you that you are supposed to be in the dungeons right now, learning how to teach a class?"

"It's your fault, you kept me up all night," I said, feeling a horrible sense of déjà vu. I grasped my pyjamas with both hands to make sure they stayed securely on me this time. If there was one thing I didn't need, it was for Severus to see _that_. Especially this early in the morning. It'd probably scar him for life. It'd probably scar me for life too. Two separate scarrings in one morning, I could really cause some emotional damage if I wanted to. Good thing I didn't want to, for both of our sakes.

"Why are you holding your pyjamas like that?" he asked, looking confused as ever.

"So they stay on, you incompetent fool," I spat, turning away to find some clothes to change into. "Can't have my pyjamas suddenly vanishing. That would be horrible for the both of us."

"I'm glad we've found something to agree on," he said, folding his arms. "Can I safely assume you'll be coming down?"

"Of course," I said sharply. Bloody hell, I was doing it again. Getting ridiculously angry for no apparent reason, just because he was there. What was it about him that sparked my fury so much? Probably just his jerk-like attitude. "I'll be down in a few minutes. Now, unless you'd like to stay for the show, I'd like to get changed without you staring at me." Well, that was a weird thing to say. Why had I just said that? I mean, the first bit, not the bit about wanting to get changed without his presence. Because that part was a completely normal thing to want. Who _would_ want Severus Snape to watch them change? That just seemed strange and wrong somehow, like thinking of your parents getting it on. Oh dear lord, now I've got _that_ mental image in my head. I'd have to get it out somehow, but I'd concentrate on that later, once I wasn't so damn late for class. I heard the door slam shut behind me and footsteps receding into the background, and only then did I feel comfortable getting changed.

The only problem was what to change into. I'd thrown clothes on my bed for the benefit of Severus, so that he could see that I _was_ on the way to being ready, but I hadn't really paid attention to what I was doing. I saw that I'd pulled out seven shirts and nothing to wear on my lower half, and quickly shoved all but one of the shirts back into the closet. They fell in a heap on the closet floor and I slammed the door shut, figuring that I'd clean it up later. I knew I wouldn't. I never cleaned it up later. I pulled open random drawers and emptied them onto my bed, shoving my hand into the pile haphazardly and putting on whatever I could grab hold of. This, while time-saving, probably wasn't the best method there was, as I ended up with a pair of underpants on my foot and a sock on my ear. How did it get on my ear? I have no idea. There had been a lot of things flying around, bright colours and big movements, and I couldn't be sure of what exactly was what. I fixed myself up quickly, threw on a navy button-up shirt and a pair of faded jeans, and moved into the bathroom. Ordinarily I spent around half an hour in the bathroom of a morning, but Severus was already annoyed with me. I didn't want to incite his anger any further, and maybe some professionalism would make him less of a jerk towards me. Anything that could improve his temper was excellent in my books. I did a rushed job of brushing my hair and my teeth, and put on a tiny bit of makeup to cover my dark, sleep-deprived eyes. Excellent – it was only 9.30. I'd gotten ready at a record speed, the speed of light, and there was nothing Severus could find fault with in me.


	11. The Good, the Bad and the Breakfast

**Chapter Eleven: The Good, the Bad and the Breakfast**

It turned out I was wrong. As I sped into the dungeons half an hour late for class, he glared at me (number twenty) and exhaled noisily like a bull about to charge. What? What on earth was wrong with me? I'd managed to get cleaned up and dressed in ten minutes, without resorting to robes as _his_ incredibly lazy way of getting dressed. My teeth were clean, my hair was… reasonable, considering I'd only finger-combed it, and my clothes were firmly attached to my skin. So what if my face was a little red and puffy from running _all the way down to the dungeons_? And some bits of my hair were plastered to my damp forehead in a way I was sure was _incredibly_ attractive? And so what if I was breathing so heavily my lungs might have ruptured? I was only half an hour late, and that was his fault. If only I'd been able to go to bed at a reasonable hour, rather than organizing potions ingredients and having an impromptu dinner – well, maybe it was more of an indoors picnic – in the kitchen corridor in the middle of the night. Stupid Severus, always having to get angry with me. Well, this time I wouldn't stand for it. This time I'd strike first, like an adder. Or a cobra. Or some other animal (preferably a reptile, I was quite reptilian in my rage) that strikes. Like a dragon! Do dragons strike? Thinking about dragons made me want toast, and I regretted instantly that I'd missed breakfast yet again. I used to love the breakfasts in the Great Hall, and I missed the great platters of toast, egg and bacon that had always been a staple of my school diet. Honestly, it was a wonder I hadn't gotten monstrously obese from the amazingly greasy food that had always been on the tables. Where was I again? Oh yes, striking first.

"Well, you're a stink-face!" I cried, realizing far too late that you couldn't strike first with a comeback. This, unfortunately, was the inherent property of a comeback – someone had to have struck first, and it couldn't be you.

"Excuse me?" he said dangerously. Eep. The way he was staring at me at that moment, with his face angled slightly downwards and his glittering black eyes glaring up at me, looked quite terrifying. There was something demonic about it, something that said 'say exactly what I want to hear right now or I'll eat your face'. And the way he was looking at me, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd bared his teeth and pounced.

"I mean… good morning?"

"I beg to differ," he said, releasing me from his horror-stare and shuffling papers on his desk. What was with this man and papers? How many things could he possibly have to write down on a day-to-day basis? "Your presence ensures that this morning is already ruined."

"But… but… you came and got me! You wanted me to come down here!" I sputtered out the sentences, confused out of my skull. What was he playing at? He remembered as well as I did what had happened when he came up to my room. Oh Merlin, that makes it sound like… well, never mind what it sounded like. The point is that he _did _want me to come down.

"I never said anything of the sort," he said, lowering his voice and sending a sidelong glance towards the sixth-years. They had paused in their potion making to stare at the back-and-forth between me and Severus, and quite frankly, they looked rapt. Some were even holding their knives motionless in mid-air, as though affected by a freezing charm. Most of them, frightened by Severus' angry look in their direction, began chopping their ingredients again, but some stayed still, staring glassy-eyed at us. "If you'll recall, I simply reminded you of your duties. The longer it takes for you to learn what it is to be a teacher, the longer I must put up with you."

"You did not simply remind me of your duties," I said, quoting him. "I saw your face when you came to my door. You looked _livid_."

His face remained emotionless, and there was a closed-up look in his eyes, though his eyebrows were still slightly narrowed from the powerful glare he'd shot my way. "I was under the impression that you thought that was my ordinary appearance."

I saw what he was doing, oh yes. He was trying to use his fancy, serious words to say; 'What are you talking about? I'm _always_ angry.' He couldn't get one past me, though, it was like he was the ocean and I was Mount Everest. He could evaporate all the clouds he liked, but the second they try to go past me? Oh my, they'll break and rain all over the place, yes they will. What had he said again? For the life of me I couldn't remember. Bloody metaphors and tangents, always ruining my conversations by making me forget what they were about. Oh, right, Severus totally wanting me in the dungeons. Oh dear. That came out very, very wrong. What was wrong with the things I was saying today? They were all ridiculously innuendo-laden, and I didn't know why. Must have been something to do with the odd dream I'd had.

Helping out the students and occasionally annoying Severus ate up my time so quickly that I didn't believe him when he said it was lunchtime. It was only a loud, gnawing growl from my stomach that told me he was telling the truth. I followed him up to the Great Hall and slid into my seat at the staff table – it felt better every time I sat in it – and looked at the lunch options. To my surprise, there were pies again. I didn't ever remember there being the same food for lunch two days in a row before, though perhaps I hadn't been paying much attention. I remembered a lot of talking to my friends and not so much concentrating on food. I did remember that it had been delicious, though. Aside from pies in front of me, there were quiches and large tureens of pasta salad. I put a large slice of quiche and a _very_ large amount of pasta salad on my plate and began to eat ravenously. I had missed breakfast yet again, and doing all my work on an empty stomach really got to me once I'd realized just how hungry I was. The pasta salad was incredible. I didn't know what the house-elves had done, but it tasted better than any pasta salad I'd ever had in my life. There was just the right balance of acidity, sweetness and savory… er… savoryness? At any rate, it was incredible.

"Sweet Merlin's beard, this pasta salad! Holy hell! This pasta salad! I can't believe this is actual food and not _bits of angel flesh,_" I said loudly and joyously. Severus, eating a tomato and basil quiche, stared at me like I'd taken off my pants and began throwing spoons at people.

"Enjoying yourself, then?" he asked coolly, but I was in too good of a stomach-related mood to get into a tiff with him. I simply smiled broadly and nodded before going back to the amazing lunch I had before me. "I do believe," he said, refilling his pumpkin juice goblet, "that it's quite possible," he refilled mine, which surprised me, "that you've gone entirely mad."

I swallowed a huge mouthful of pasta and let out a barking "_Ha!_" at him, which startled him into a small twitch. He stared at me with one eyebrow furrowed and one raised up, as though he was watching something he had no comprehension of. "You refilled my pumpkin juice for me," I said triumphantly. "You can no longer deny caring about my stomach."

"I merely foresaw choking in your near future," he said, turning away and eating more of his lunch. "I thought it would be prudent to provide you with a beverage, as the Heimlich maneuver can get extremely messy."

"Aww, you'd Heimlich me," I said, my voice dripping with honey. "That's _so_ sweet." He glared at me for half a second before returning to his lunch, which apparently was much more important than I was. It was glare number twenty-one, anyway, and it was barely Friday lunchtime. This was getting ridiculous.


	12. Party Looks

**Chapter Twelve: Party Looks**

"Hello, Miss Vialle, I hope I find you well?" A cheerful but still vaguely serious voice startled me out of my thoughts and I turned around to see Professor McGonagall – well, _Minerva_ now that we were colleagues – standing there. She looked much as she ever did in her long, green-lined robes and ancient looking witch's hat, though I saw a few more lines on her face than she had when I was in school. I wondered vaguely why I hadn't noticed them before, but then realized that an old person's face was not really an area of particular interest to me. It felt odd to refer to Minerva as being old, but I supposed that she must be getting there by now, what with the wispy grey hairs that were beginning to form around her temples.

"Very well, thank you," I replied, reluctantly tearing myself away from the amazing pasta salad. "Do we get this pasta salad often? It's really fantastic."

"Yes, the house-elves are quite fond of their recipe, as I understand it," she said, looking fondly upon the food as though it were her child. "I am too, for that matter. Lovely stuff, wouldn't you agree, Severus?"

He turned around slowly to face her, looking mildly irked. "Of course, Headmistress." His tone was as cool and silky as ever, and it was suddenly clear to me that he was the perfect head of Slytherin house. He was as cold, slithery and hostile as his mascot. I wondered who would be the head of Slytherin after he left. I hadn't really thought about it much, but I had to wonder whether it was tied to the subject or whether it was given to the Professor most suited to the role. Perhaps I would even be head of Slytherin one day, if it were the former. If it were the latter, I doubt there's any way I would qualify. I was like the opposite of a snake – I didn't consider myself cold, slithery or hostile at all. I was more like some kind of small bird, or woodland creature. Perhaps a furred sea mammal? Or a caterpillar, maybe. Once I'd successfully retrieved myself from my odd mammalian tangent, Minerva had turned back to me.

"Can we expect you tonight, Miss Vialle?" she said, and I could see Severus turn stiff and uncomfortable again beside me. It was a most odd turn of events, seeing as I had no idea what Minerva was talking about, and no idea why Severus was acting that way.

"Sorry, but I've no idea what you're talking about," I said with what I hoped was a sincere smile. I wasn't entirely sure how to act, and she could probably see it, but she didn't call me on it.

"The staff party," she said, looking surprised. She turned her gaze onto Severus. "Really, Severus, I asked you to tell her about it yesterday. Or did it slip your mind?" He opened his mouth to respond but I butted in, excited.

"What party?"

"Traditionally, the teaching staff of Hogwarts have a small get-together on the Friday evening of the first weekend of the school year, to celebrate surviving the students for the first week," she said, still looking confused as to why Severus hadn't told me. I was confused too. "It will be held in the staff room this evening at eight p.m. Now, can we expect you tonight?"

"Of course, Headmistress," I said. "I'll definitely be there." I wasn't sure if I was supposed to call her Minerva or Headmistress, but since Severus had gone with the latter I had followed suit. At any rate, she nodded her approval at me and then walked back to her own seat to finish her lunch. I turned back to face Severus, who seemed to be deeply engrossed in his quiche.

"So, Severus," I said, putting my elbows on the table and lowering my head to look at him properly, since he was moderately hunched over, "why didn't you tell me about this staff party thing? And don't give me that 'slipped your mind' crap, because that's not going to work with me."

He raised his head to peer intently at me, making me feel decidedly uncomfortable. I knew what he was trying to do; he was trying to unnerve me. But I wasn't going to back down. Not even if he cast that weird iris-expanding spell again. I mean, sure, he'd denied it at the time, but who was I going to believe? Not him, that's for damn sure. I'd believe my own eyes, and if they told me that Severus had cast a spell, and they _had_, I'd believe them like a shot. My body parts don't lie to me, because they know that if they did, I'd cut them off. That's why I let my pinky go all black and frost-bitten. It lied to me. It said that I didn't _need_ a coat to go to Russia. It told me that Russia had a very tropical climate, and that everything I'd ever heard about Russia being cold was just lies fed to me by the French propaganda units. Well, _that_ was all a pack of lies, so I got rid of it. That should teach it a lesson. I got a brand-new finger that would _never_ lie to me, unless of course I asked it to. It's very loyal to me. It's like a dog. A dog-finger.

"Raphaela," Severus said, cutting into my thoughts, "are you aware that every time I look at you, you've got a very peculiar glazed-over look about you?"

"That is such a lie," I said, staring directly back at him so that I'd reduce my glazed-over-ness. "I'm not glazed right now."

"Yes, but in about four seconds you'll drift off again," he said confidently, still peering. I would not. I don't drift off or get glazy. He had no idea what he was talking about. Who thought of the name tea tree? Perhaps someone planted a teabag in the exact same spot as a tea tree was about to grow anyway and they thought that the tree sprang from the bag. What an idiot that guy must have been. I sure do like tea. I'm not sure I've ever disliked tea, but there was a time when I forgot how great it was and I – "You're doing it."

"I am not!" I cried out, pounding the table with my fist. "You're a liar. Anyway, why didn't you tell me about the party?"

"I… wasn't sure how to tell you without it sounding like…" he stopped suddenly, breaking the eye contact and looking back at his lunch. "I wasn't sure how to tell you."

One thing was for sure, there was something he wasn't telling me. He might curse me if I pushed it though, so I decided to just let it be for now and concentrate on my awesome pasta salad. Unfortunately, it was just disappearing from the plates when I turned back around. Oh well, I figured I'd had enough anyway. If I'd had any more I probably would have felt sick, and the stench from the dungeons wouldn't have helped. It'd just get worse and I'd throw up pasta salad into some kid's cauldron and then their teeth-whitening potion would explode and bleach their face off. And worst of all, I doubted the salad would taste as good coming up as it did going down.


	13. Booze and Pleasantries

**Chapter Thirteen: Booze and Pleasantries**

That party was the most positively, absolutely, horrendously worst thing I've ever subjected myself to in the history of time itself. Teachers! Something they never tell you about teachers is that they never stop thinking about teaching. It's all blah, blah, seventh-year Ravenclaw this and fourth-year Slytherin that, curriculum this and corridor duty that. Boring! There was music, but Flitwick had been in charge of it, and no offence to the guy, but his music taste sucks like a vacuum. Punch! The punch was the only redeeming quality of that horrific so-called party. It wasn't very strong but since I'd had nothing better to do I'd just sat on my navy chair, drinking punch and talking to the table in front of me. It didn't reply but it shrugged sometimes if I asked it a direct question. Unfortunately I had to stop that eventually when people started complaining that their drinks left on the table kept spilling. I think the punchbowl had a charm on it that made it self-refill whenever it got low, because I never saw anyone refilling it but it always seemed to have enough in there. Needless to say, with nothing better to do than to drink, I ended up making vain attempts to walk in a straight line out of the staff room and I may have propositioned a bookshelf. Then that horrible old bat Pince looked down her big nose at me and Severus looked like he was fighting the urge to burst out laughing. And the next morning… bleh.

It was a good thing it was a Saturday and thusly there were no classes, because I definitely would have vomited in a cauldron. I skipped breakfast yet again because my bathroom floor was desperate for a catch-up. I felt afterwards like that hour and a half I spent lying on the floor going 'urrrrgh' was really good for the both of us. After the contents of my stomach had been purged completely from my convulsing stomach, I saw fit to exit my bedroom and make my way to Hogsmeade for the first breakfast I'd had in days. I knew of a nice place that did all-day breakfast (I'd had several Saturday mornings like this in my own time as a student here) and that was my destination. I felt so icky that I didn't even bother making myself look nice, I just threw on jeans and a t-shirt and staggered down to the village.

Once I had my breakfast in front of me my stomach immediately stopped feeling so nauseous. Very polite of it, I thought as I scarfed down the bacon and eggs with all the grace of a warthog. I took my time a little more with the coffee, relishing the slightly bitter taste and thanking the Breakfast Gods that the barista hadn't burnt it. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's burnt coffee. It ruins the whole thing and you have to add about seventeen sugars just to make it halfway decent. But then, of course, because of all the sugar it makes you sick. It's a lose-lose situation. It's always better to just avoid the whole thing and find a barista who knows what they're doing. After my completely awesome breakfast, I felt a lot better and so I figured I'd go to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. Just one couldn't hurt my still-thumping headache, since they're about as strong as Professor Binns. I would have called him by his first name, except for the life of me I couldn't think of what it was. I couldn't remember ever having been told it, or having ever found it out through any means. It was quite ridiculous. I made a mental note to ask someone when I got back to the castle, but before I could think any more I was startled by someone sitting down at my small corner table. I'd picked a corner table specifically so that I wouldn't be bothered by bar patrons, but apparently my sneaky plan hadn't worked. Though, if anyone was going to invade my privacy, I was almost pleased it was him.

He was very, very pretty. It seems odd to describe a boy as being pretty, but there it was. He was just that. Pretty. He had large blue eyes with long eyelashes, and long, messy brown hair. Bloody hell, why hadn't I put some makeup on that morning? Or brushed my hair? Or my teeth, for that matter? And I hadn't even showered, I must have stunk like old socks. Or vomit. I couldn't decide which was worse, vomit or old socks. Both equal, I figured eventually, before he opened his mouth and began to say something.

"Hi," he said. Oh, lovely. He was one of _those_ people. The people that don't have anything of any consequence to say other than 'hi', and then they expect _you_ to pick up the conversation slack. Well, I wasn't going to. We could sit here all day if we had to, just waiting for him to say something interesting.

"Hey." Damnit!

"I don't usually do this – actually, I never do this, but I just came in and I thought you looked really, really -"

"Horrid!" I cried, putting my head down onto the table, cautiously avoiding my butterbeer. "I normally look okay, but I only just woke up and last night I got very, very pissed and this morning I felt so icky and… it's not nice."

"That sounded like a mouthful." He sounded slightly amused, slightly worried. I wondered if the next thing I would hear would be the sliding of his chair against the stone floor and the sound of his shoes walking away from this insane, disgusting-looking woman. Surprisingly, he spoke again. "I was going to say, gorgeous."

"You were not," I cried from my cozy position with my face pressed against the table. "It's not my fault I got pissed last night and now I smell like old socks or sick or something…"

"I can't smell you," he said. "Though I do have a cold right now."

I brought my head up from the table to look at him. If this was what he looked like sick, I would have liked to see him healthy. So pretty! I was almost suffering from an overload of pretty. I was about to have a heart attack from all the pretty. It was actually causing clots to form in my bloodstream. I had to stop looking at him, for two reasons: my health, and his sanity. I was sure that I was creeping him out to no end with my slack-jawed, wide-eyed gazing. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to tear my eyes away and concentrate on my drink. It was delicious, and I was feeling great.

"So," he said, attempting a weak smile, "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say now."

"Supposed to say?" I asked, confused. "I don't think you're supposed to say anything, I think you should just say whatever you feel like. I do. Though that's probably not the best way to live."

"Well, you don't seem too damaged by it," he laughed. "And I had a conversation all planned out, you see… I was almost pissing myself before, I was so scared of coming over and talking to you."

"Am I frightening?"

"No… you're just very pretty. And not what I expected." He didn't look displeased by this notion. In fact, he seemed quite overjoyed at my peculiarity. That was all to the good, I figured. I could never keep up a conversation with someone who didn't appreciate my quirks. That was why I had to have those one-sided conversations with Severus. He just didn't understand me. "Sorry… I'm sorry if I've come across as a bit odd. I just have issues with saying the right thing at the right time."

"Oh, you and me both," I said, taking a drink. "I tend to shout whatever I'm thinking. My co-workers all think I've gone mental."

"Well, I promise not to cast aspersions on your sanity," he said with a small laugh. "Now, can I buy you a drink or are you still feeling night-beforey?"

I thought for about half a second. "The day Raphaela Vialle refuses a drink is her funeral," I said loudly. "And even then I might come back as a ghost to get someone to pour booze into my cold, dead esophagus."

"Well, that's a fabulous mental image," he said, but he was smiling. "I'll go get something nice for your esophagus, shall I?"

Mmm, delicious. He looked almost as good from behind as he did from the front. He returned a few minutes later with two very pink, very girly-looking drinks.

"I thought something easy to start with," he said, setting down a drink in front of me. "Wouldn't want you throwing up all over the floor, that would be quite revolting."

"Ha! Easy? Difficult is my middle name!" I said, downing the drink in one gulp and slamming the glass back down on the table with a loud bang. "Firewhisky!" I called to the bartender, who complied in an instant with two flaming shots. This guy needed to learn exactly what I was about, which was everything in excess, and damn the consequences. Damn them, I say! Of course, the consequences might be me being violently sick all over the place, but _damn them!_ Vomiting was just part of the Raphaela Vialle experience. Vomiting and saying insane things.


	14. Taking the Beer Train

**Chapter Fourteen: Taking the Beer Train**

After the tenth shot, things started to get fuzzy and I lost count. There were a couple more of those tasty, sweet pink drinks, courtesy of the pretty guy, but I couldn't honestly say how much I'd had. He definitely looked worse than me, though, and when he'd fallen over for the third time and I'd burst into another fit of raucous laughter, they asked us to leave. Out in the cool Hogsmeade street, I felt a little lost. I didn't quite know what to do with the rest of my weekend, as I didn't have anything fun to do at the castle and I didn't know of anything interesting around the town that I could do.

"So… so d'you live in z'village?" I heard a voice somewhere beside me and turned, overdoing it somewhat and ending up facing back towards the Three Broomsticks. Who had spoken? Ah! Of course. Pretty guy.

"No, I live… at the school. At the Hogwarts." At the Hogwarts, that was it. My living area. My lovely, lovely living area that was extremely cold in the mornings. Damn it, damn it to _hell_. "Damn that."

"You… teacher? Lookin' young to be tee-eacher," he said, standing very straight and blinking a lot, looking surprised. I began to half walk, half stagger down the street and he accompanied me, for which I was grateful. Aside from the other teachers, I hadn't had any sort of conversation since I arrived. And teachers were bloody dull.

"Just havin' a learn," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. "I'll be a teacher soon, once old Snapey kicks the proverbial bucket and I get his job." He put a hand on my shoulder and we kept walking, keeping each other up with some kind of magical drunken power.

"That's… morbid."

"No, I think you'll find that _you're_ morbid, my pretty new friend," I said, then realised I was on my way back up to the castle. "I think… I think I'm going back to Hogs. You want to come?"

"Okay," he said amicably, with a blank smile on his face. "Am I 'llowed up there, when I'm not teach or stude?"

"We'll find out, I think," I said, giggling as I dragged him up towards the castle. "You'd be ex-stude, wouldn' you?"

"'Bout…. 'bout six thousand years ago, maybe," he said, with that odd laugh that all drunk people seem to do. The one where they laugh but forget to open their mouths properly, so it just sounds like rapid exhalations of breath. "Looooooooong time ago."

"Me too, ten of them years," I said with terrible word use. "I'm almost an old senior citizen now. Too old to be getting pissed at midday."

"Never too pissed for – I mean, too old for pissed," he said, giggling again at his mistake. "Look! Castle. Big."

"It is!" I cried, suddenly struck by its immense size. Of course, we were about four centimeters away from it, and it probably looked a lot bigger from that perspective, but still. I was pissed and it was _impressive_. "Let's be going inside."

For once, my mind was entirely, blissfully blank as we made our way up to my quarters. It seemed odd that we hadn't encountered a single soul, it being a Saturday afternoon, but I hadn't counted on finding Severus standing outside the door to my room, leaning against the frame.

"What 'choo doin' here?" I demanded, staring at him with wide eyes. "I'm not in there. I'm out here."

"Apparently," he said lightly. "Are you drunk again, or still?"

"Umm…" I thought hard. I _had_ been drunk only a few hours previous, but I was almost certain that there had been a short period of sobriety sometime. Ah yes! I remembered being sober and feeling horrid on my bathroom floor. "It is again, I think. Yes, again. But I can't be sure. Come back tomorrow and I'll tell you then, when my brain's working properly. Something is preventing it from working okay now. Did… did you give me a lotobotobomy when I was asleep?"

"The word you're looking for is lobotomy, and I did not, no." He looked quite annoyed, and turned his gaze on the pretty guy who was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to me, making shapes in the dust on the floor with a finger. "And who is this?"

I turned to the guy, who was oblivious to Severus' words and glare. I stared blankly at him for a few moments before turning back to Severus. "I don't know," I said with a giggle. "I mean, I never caught his name. You there!" I cried, nudging him with my foot. He let out a cry of surprise and toppled over to lie on his side on the floor, giggling madly. "What's your name?"

"Um… I can't remember," he said, letting out a fresh burst of giggles. "Oh! Wait on! It's… John. Johnny! That's my name. It is what people call me."

"Enthralling," Severus said, and I wondered if he was being sarcastic. I _must_ have been pissed, if I couldn't even catch his sarcasm anymore. Oh well, who cared about sarcasm when there was a very pretty Johnny on the floor, and nothing between us and my room but an ornery professor.

"See here, mister ornery," I said, jabbing a finger into Severus' sternum, "There is a very pretty Johnny on the floor, and _you_ are standing in the way of my room. This is an unacceptable development and I must insist that you step aside and allow us passage."

"No, _you_ see here," he said, looking livid. "I don't know if there exists a rule that will help me, but I will personally scour the Hogwarts rulebook and find _something_ I can use to kick this miscreant out and make sure he never comes within a hundred miles of the castle _ever again_." He pointed a finger at Johnny as he said this, who had stood up and was now dusting himself off placidly, still with a blank smile on his face.

"You're a jerk, Severus," I said, opening the door to my chambers and ushering Johnny inside. I knew why he was acting this way, and it pissed me off. It was so ridiculously petty and childish, I would have to call him on it, just so he could learn that it's _not okay_ to act this way. "Just 'cause you're totally jealous."

He turned an odd shade of purple and stepped away from the door, his arms going rigid at his sides. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about." I wished he would stop lying to me. It was getting incredibly old, and even totally pissed, I could still see that he was horrified.

"Yeah right!" I shouted angrily. "You _wish_ you could find a boy as pretty as Johnny. But he is mine! And you will not ruin it with your troublemaking ways!" After a final vision of Severus looking surprised, I slammed the door on his face and turned to see Johnny, collapsed on my bed and snoring loudly. He even looked gorgeous with his arms splayed out at his sides, mouth open and drooling on my bed. I staggered over towards him, kissed him on the cheek and covered him with the blankets before falling into bed next to him and drifting off in about four seconds. It had been a _very_ exhausting day.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! You guys are all so sweet, it really makes my day. I originally had Pretty Guy's name as being Tom, but that was a bit too close to Voldemort, and I didn't want this to turn into a big Voldie-fest. He's sort of named after Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, but that has no significance really. He's not going to get all murdery on us. OR IS HE? ONLY TIME WILL TELL.


	15. I Don’t Wake Up Pretty

**Chapter Fifteen: I Don't Wake Up Pretty, He Wakes Up By Himself**

I awoke with what seemed like a large quantity of cotton wool in my mouth and between my ears. I grumbled sleepily and rolled over, with the idea of going back to sleep very appealing in my mind. A low, muffled growling noise came across from somewhere behind me and I sat up straight in my bed, my hands forming themselves into a defensive pose. Then I felt absolutely ridiculous. Who makes that pose anyway? I shouldn't do it ever again. It did not look good on me. I looked like some kind of over-scared, under-learned hick. I turned to see what had made that odd noise and saw Johnny snoozing peacefully, and the memories of Saturday afternoon came flooding back. The lights on the clock next to my bed said that the time was almost four in the morning, and I realized with a jolt that I'd spent the entirety of Saturday throwing up, drinking, and being asleep. I felt like I was seventeen again, but my body at that time was definitely more resilient than my current one. Then, I could have had firewhiskey shots, curry and beer for a hangover breakfast, and then go out again that night and be fine for class the next day. Now, I was lucky that my recent antics hadn't killed me. Granted, twenty-seven wasn't exactly elderly, but it was a hell of a lot older than seventeen. Then, I remembered Severus.

Oh, Merlin. Severus. I barely remembered what exactly it was that I'd said to him, but I knew that it was probably incredibly embarrassing and stupid of me. I had an unfortunate tendency to say incredibly embarrassing and stupid things when I was drunk, and also when I was sober. I had the feeling I'd made a tremendous ass of myself though, and the situation needed to be rectified immediately. I leapt out of bed, still fully clothed, though I hadn't showered in a while and I could even smell myself. It was disgusting. I needed a shower, badly. After making sure Johnny was still fast asleep, I peeled off my revolting clothes and tossed them into the laundry hamper for the house-elves to wash. I felt a bit bad sometimes, making them do all my work, but they seemed to be happy enough and looked extremely offended the few times I offered to do it myself.

Now completely naked in a stone castle in the middle of the night, I was so damn cold that I wouldn't have been surprised if bits hadn't started falling off. This could not be allowed to occur, not again anyway. I ran as quietly as I could over to the bathroom and shut the door softly behind me, casting a silencing charm on the door so that the noise of my shower wouldn't wake Johnny. I turned on the faucets and hopped underneath quickly, the steaming hot water making my icy feet tingle unpleasantly. It wasn't too long before I was used to it though, and I washed my hair and did everything else that had to be done as quickly as I could. Soon enough, I was totally clean and wrapping a huge, warm, fluffy green towel around me. There was one thing to say about Hogwarts, even if it was totally freezing most of the time, they provided nice compensations, such as never-ending hot water and the warmest towels I had ever experienced. They were even charmed to dry hair about sixty times faster than with an ordinary towel. Sometimes a blow-drier was better though, because the charms on the towels were a bit malicious and they could dry your hair in any position they liked. Fortunately, the towel charms were smiling on me, and my hair turned to cute curls. I'd wanted curly hair all my life, but unfortunately my hair was just boring and straight. Oh well. This fabulous Sunday, I was curly.

I peeked my head around the bathroom door cautiously, and to my relief, Johnny was still sound asleep and snoring a bit. It was safe to emerge. I walked over to my closet, hoping that the stone floor didn't decide to creak, or whatever stone did. Thankfully my trip was silent as stars, and I pulled some clothes out of the closet before realizing I'd forgotten underwear, which was on the other side of my bed. Sure, it would have been a lot safer to go around the bed, but going over would be so much easier, and Johnny seemed to be pretty sound asleep…

Okay, so I was just being lazy. But I didn't want to have to go all the way around my bed. It _was_ a pretty big bed, and if I wanted to walk around it I'd probably need to pack provisions or something. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration. But still. It was pretty big. And that's why I decided to go over instead. I carefully placed my hands on the other side of Johnny's slumbering form and slowly began to creep over, trying to make no sudden movements so he wouldn't wake up and see me. He'd probably think I'd gone mental or something, or that I was some kind of creepy rapist. Thankfully I got both legs over and was in the clear on my side of the bed, only a few inches away from my underwear drawers. Unfortunately, I didn't count on the loose sheets that had turned into a messy knot while I'd been sleeping under them. I also didn't count on my foot being caught in this knot, and me crashing down to the ground, bringing the lamp from my bedside table down with me. Being quite fragile, it smashed into many shards in a very noisy sort of way. Wonderful.

I slowly rose to check on Johnny. To my immense surprise, he was still sleeping. I would have thought he was dead, were it not for his soft snoring and occasional twitching. Before he could wake up and see me, naked and gawking at him, I pulled on a pair of underpants and a bra before climbing over the bed again to get back to the closet. I was less careful this time, as I knew that he wouldn't wake up –

"What are you doing?"

Oh. Wonderful. He woke up. And I just happened to be perched on all fours over him in my underwear. I slowly turned my head to face him and tried for a smile, but he just looked confused and slightly worried. I got the feeling I'd be seeing a lot of that. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm trying to get dressed without you seeing me."

"Oh," he said, looking thoughtful. "You're not doing it very well."

"I am aware of that, thank you," I said snippily, continuing to crawl over him to get to my closet. I fell off the bed _yet again_ when I tried to dismount, and stood up quickly in the hope that he wouldn't think I was entirely mental. I grabbed the clothes I'd selected earlier and pulled them on, a pair of faded jeans and a prettily printed black t-shirt. "Well, now I'm dressed, I should go and do… what I was planning to do when I woke up."

"It's five in the morning," he said. "And I don't think I caught your name, or if I did, I've forgotten it. Sorry."

"That's okay, you were pretty pissed," I said, throwing on a jacket and a pair of slippers. "It's Raphaela, Raphaela Vialle. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go and do something."

"Okay," he said, pushing his hair back in a way that was extremely pretty, and getting out of bed. "Urgh, I reek."

"Yeah, I did too," I said, trying to make him feel less weird about waking up in my room, fully clothed and smelly. "The bathroom's through there if you want to shower or something."

"Might have to," he said, moving towards the bathroom. "Then I'll probably go, my roommate's probably wondering where I am. I just said I was nipping out to get milk, that was about eighteen hours ago."

I laughed. Johnny was _funny_. And pretty. So, so pretty. I could feel myself turning into a giggly mess over him. Stupid pretty boys. Why did they have to be so pretty and charming? It was unfair, and I wouldn't stand for it. But then he was in the bathroom and I heard the water running and I had to steady myself a bit and try not to think about him in the shower. It was difficult. But I had to, I had to go and see Severus. I had to push all thoughts of showering-Johnny out of my head and concentrate on Severus. Unfortunately, my still-sleepy brain got confused and made me think of a combination of the two, which was… well, never mind what it was. It was horrifying and I almost threw up at the horror of it. I pushed all thoughts of _everything_ out of my head and decided that it would be nice to write a note to Johnny. I quickly found parchment and a quill and composed a short note that I left with his shoes and jacket by the door.

_Hey Johnny, (I hope that's your real name and not just a drunk thing)_

_It was nice to meet you. You should owl me or something. If __you want  
__to. You don't have to. But it would be nice if you did. Well, more than  
nice. It would be utterly lovely. But I can't stress this enough, YOU  
TOTALLY DON'T HAVE TO. But I think you should._

_Regards,_

_Raphaela_


	16. I Wasn’t

**Chapter Sixteen: I Wasn't.**

I wandered around the school aimlessly until I found Severus' quarters down in the dungeons – of course, where else would they be – and thanked Merlin that I'd actually found the place. I'd never been there before and the castle was dark, it being around six in the morning. Cold, too. The heat from the potions classes had dissipated through the course of a full Saturday with no fires, and it was back to its old freezing chill. There was a silver plaque on the front of the door, and I looked closely in the dark to read it, tracing the lines with my finger. It read 'Severus Snape', and below that, 'Potions Master'. I knocked softly on the dark wood, and upon hearing no noise from inside, turned the handle and entered quietly. A few candles were burning low, scattered around the room, and I was momentarily outraged by his blatant disregard for fire safety. I mean, there was one candle that was about two centimeters away from a curtain. A very flammable-looking curtain, mind you. I almost went over there to test the flammability of it, but then I stopped myself because I realized that trying to set fire to your colleague slash superior's bedroom was a bloody stupid idea.

Instead I just sat myself down on the side of his bed, which surprised me, because I'd thought that for sure he'd sleep upside down, wrapped in a cocoon of his own wings. Ha, ha. Not. It was a pretty nice bed, all wrought iron and black hangings. He would have been invisible, in all his black, but for his pale face and hands. He slept on his back, with his head perfectly centered on the pillow and facing directly upwards. His arms were completely rigid at his sides. All in all, it looked like a very peculiar way to sleep, but his face looked entirely passive and calm, something I'd never seen on him before. I definitely preferred it to his usual angry face. I swung my legs up onto the bed and moved to a cross-legged position, steepling my fingers and resting my chin on their tips. I didn't quite know what to do now. I'd thoroughly thought out the getting here (wandering around until I found it), and the getting in (knocking and then entering), but I had no idea whether or not to wake him up. Maybe he'd get mad. Kick me out. Tell me never to darken his doorstep again. Or maybe all his problems stemmed from not enough sleep, and if he woke up now he'd be as pleasant as a parakeet. Wait, pleasant as a parakeet? That didn't even make any sense. I decided to meditate on it further while I continued to peer at him like some deranged stalker girl.

"Stop it," he said suddenly, causing me to fall backwards off the bed in shock. Rubbing my aching spine, I returned to my position on his bed and stared at him. He looked just as he had before, eyes closed and everything, except this time his eyebrows were furrowed in what looked like confusion. "I was going to ask you why you're in my room at such an ungodly hour, Raphaela, but I've decided I'd rather not know the answer to that one."

"Maybe you're dreaming?" I said stubbornly, folding my arms across my chest and glaring at him. "And how did you know it was me?"

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Nobody else I know would come into my room at…" he glanced over at his clock, "six in the morning, then sit on my bed and watch me sleep for ten minutes."

"Oh, I wasn't _watching you sleep_," I said, though he snorted with derision at this comment. "I was just wondering whether or not I should wake you. Apparently that resolved itself though, because you woke up all by yourself to be a jerk at me again. Besides, how do you know this isn't all some big, vivid dream?"

"Because if calamity struck and you began plaguing my dreams, I'd have to kill myself. Or you, I'm not picky." He sat up in bed and looked at me. "Did you want something?"

"Yes, actually," I said, before realizing that I'd completely forgotten what I'd come down for. "Actually, I'm not so sure. Did I?"

"I should hope so. I'd rather that you coming down here and watching me sleep isn't going to become a regular thing. Or should I pencil you in for next Tuesday night?"

"I WAS NOT WATCHING YOU SLEEP!"

A loud knock at the door made both our heads snap around to stare at the doorway, where Minerva McGonagall stood, watching us curiously. I realised with a jolt that I'd forgotten to close it behind me and our conversation was sure to have carried through the stone corridor.

"I wasn't," I said to her, crossing my arms. "I just needed to talk to him about something but he was asleep and I -"

"It is no business of mine what you do in your spare time, Raphaela," she said, a twitching smile playing at her features. "Though Severus, you may want to lock your door in future. One might even begin to suspect that you _want_ these things to happen."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Minerva," he said, though he'd started to look incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassed again, just like that time when I accidentally flashed my underpants at him. I glanced down to check that that wasn't happening again, but thankfully my pants had remained on my legs. "Did you want something, or did you both organize a slumber party without consulting me?"

"I was going to talk to you about some new changes to the timetables, but I can see now that I may have been a bit hasty. It can wait until breakfast, I think." With that, she nodded to both of us and exited, closing the door tightly behind her. I turned back to Severus to see that he still looked slightly uncomfortable, but since I had no idea why this could be, I pushed it out of my mind.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Raphaela?" He looked quite tired actually, and I felt a bit bad for coming down and waking him up so early in the morning.

"How much sleep have you had?" I asked, mildly worried. I'd had some wicked bad insomnia in my seventh year and it messed me up pretty bad, it actually got so awful that I started hallucinating. Of course, all the teachers thought I was on crack, since I'd complained of big hairy monsters eating my quills and more than once I passed out in class.

"Enough," he replied shortly. "It is no business of yours anyway."

"Fucking sorry," I said, quite a bit more harshly than the situation called for. "Forget it then. Next time maybe I won't be concerned about you."

"I did not ask for your concern and I do not need it," he said, turning away from me. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to talk to you about yesterday, but I don't think I want to anymore."

"A reprieve!" He cried. "Raphaela, nothing you will ever say will interest me. I'd consider it a great boon if you would do me the honor of never talking to me again."

Why was he so horrible? I had never had the misfortune to meet anybody as cruel and insensitive as the man sitting by me. "I think I hate you, Severus Snape," I said quietly, and for some reason my eyes started to feel all misty and tingly. I blinked them rapidly as I stood up, walking towards the door. I turned the knob and opened it, and I was just about to leave when Severus said something I never thought I would ever hear from him in a million years.

"Raphaela," he said, still looking determinedly somewhere else, "I… apologize."


	17. Surprising and Rude

Sorry about the relative lateness of this chapter. I haven't spent much time at home the past few days and when I have been home I've been either totally sick or writing essays. Come on though, you guys know I'm good for it. Anyway, enjoy the chapter and I'll almost definitely have the next one up tomorrow.

This chapter is one of my favourites because he's just beginning to liiiiiike her X)

**Chapter Seventeen: Surprising and Rude**

"You _what?_"

Okay. I had misheard. I had to have misheard. There was no way he had just apologized to me, he would never do that. He was a horrible, mean, excuse for a human being, and if there was one thing that he does not do, it was apologize. And yet he had, if I'd heard correctly. Which I'm pretty sure I hadn't. He must have said something else, like, 'I poll on pies'. That didn't make any sense, but it made more sense than him apologizing. Actually, thinking about pies made me hungry. A blueberry pie would be amazing at that moment, as I was still vaguely hung-over and the only thing I'd had to eat all Saturday was the big breakfast at that café down Hogsmeade.

"Don't make me say it again, Raphaela."

"Okay… but I think I misheard. Did you apologize, or were you stating that you polled on pies?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, looking bewildered. "But I did… _apologize_."

"I knew it!" I said, squealing and bouncing over to land on the bed. "I've grown on you! Like a fungus, as you put it! You've grown accustomed to my face and you care about my feelings!" I made a mental note that I really _should_ buy him a thank-you scarf for all those times he'd saved my life, but my thoughts were broken by Severus beginning to speak once more.

"Don't get too excited," he said, looking mildly uncomfortable. "So what did you want to talk about, regarding Saturday?"

"I wanted to know what I said to you," I said, and his uncomfortable look grew somewhat. "I know I talked to you, but I don't remember what about."

"I see," he said, and peered down at his bedsheets for a few moments before answering. "Well, you started by accusing me of secretly giving you a lobotomy. Then it came out that your… _friend_… was a man you had only just met and who you didn't know the name of. Then there was some shouting, and you accused me of being jealous."

"Jealous?" I echoed, nonplussed. "That's odd."

"Jealous of you, I mean," he rectified. "I believe your exact words were that I couldn't find a man as 'pretty' as your friend."

"Sweet Merlin, is he ever pretty," I said, drifting off into a daydream about him. "Those eyes! So pretty. And such lovely cheekbones."

"Fascinating," Severus said, moving back into a reclining position. "Was there anything else, or do you want to continue to gush?"

"Um… I guess I just wanted to make sure I didn't make a complete fool of myself in front of you," I said, playing with the zipper on my jacket. Severus leant forwards and rested his elbows on his knees, taking a few moments to answer me.

"Well, rest assured that you did," he said, causing me to crack up with laughter. "Why do you care what I think anyway? I thought you _hated_ me."

"Whatever gave you that impression?" I said, nonplussed. "And I care what you think because you are my co-worker and I don't want you to think I'm totally inadequate."

"Well, maybe because you said you hated me approximately two minutes ago, Raphaela," he said, as though explaining a very simple concept to a small child.

"Oh," I said, remembering suddenly and feeling a hot blush creep onto my cheeks. It seemed so childish now that he'd apologized. Damn Severus and his mind games. "That."

"Yes. That," he echoed, raising one eyebrow. I wondered momentarily if he was making fun of me, before he began to speak again. "And no matter what you do, I'll think you're totally inadequate. So don't worry too much about it."

Ahh, that was the Severus I knew. The Severus who could conceal a horrible, soul-crushing remark into a mini-pep talk. Well, at least he was acting like normal again. Well, I supposed I had only known him for a few days, but still. I jumped on any semblance of normal I could with him. If I didn't I'd probably go mental trying to figure him out. Good thing I wasn't trying for that, I just separated the things he did into 'normal' and '…what?' I realized, far too late, that I had been staring at him while going off on my tangent, and he was looking mildly bemused at my vacant expression.

"Was there anything else, Raphaela?" he asked, leaning back against the stone wall at the head of his bed. The stone must have been cold enough to freeze hell, but he showed no signs of discomfort. Perhaps he was some kind of demon, and cold didn't affect him? Oh wait, it was heat that demons were impervious to, not cold. They were extremely cold-sensitive, by my recollection. So there goes 'demon' from the list of 'things that Severus might possibly be'. Not that I had a list. I was pretty sure that he was human. Well, human enough anyway. Passes for human. He may have been a human once, but all shreds of his humanity had been torn away, probably. Maybe he'd killed someone. Maybe worse. I wondered momentarily why I was thinking such dark things, before he opened his mouth and began to talk again.

"Raphaela? Are you going to answer me?"

Oh Merlin. What was the question? Quick, have to pretend you were listening. Say something. Anything to stop him staring like that, all confused and mildly annoyed. Then again, I should technically be used to it by now. He'd given me that look so many times in the past few days that he was in danger of his face staying like that permanently. No! No tangents! Remember what he asked! Oh, it's no use. I had to make something up.

"Er… yes?" I said, trying to look like I knew what I was talking about.

"Then what is it?"

"It's… it's…" Bloody hell. Think. Think. Think. "It's exactly what it says it is."

Severus stared at me. For a very, very long time. He looked as though he were trying to work out exactly how my mind worked, which he should have known was a futile effort. My mind was an impenetrable fortress, the likes of which none can enter. Or escape, for that matter! None can escape the fortitude of my mind, with all its intricacies and booby traps. Heheh. Booby.

"You know, sometimes I think that perhaps you're not as incompetent as I thought you were," he said finally, and my heart leapt. A compliment! He was complimenting me! Okay, so it was one of those things he did that could be sorted into the '…what?' category, but still! It was a compliment and I was going to enjoy it. "Then you go and do something like that, and I'm reminded of all the reasons why you should never be allowed to teach a subject with fire and boiling poisons."

Oh. He was just using a compliment set-up to be a jerk. What a great big surprise. You could set your watch to this man, though now that I thought about it, that was a really weird phrase. Who sets watches to things anyway? Who even sets watches anymore? Did people ever even do that? I mean, I was no antique watch expert (but I guess, like with most things, I could bluff my way through as long as nobody asked me any direct questions) but I'd never heard of anyone setting a watch to anything.

"So, is there any reason you're still sitting on my bed? I do have things to do today."

I stood up, probably too quickly to be considered entirely casual, and gave him a polite nod. "You're entirely right. I should definitely be going."

"Indeed you should. I have a lot of papers to mark."

"Oh, you lucky bastard," I said bitterly, causing his eyebrows to rise exponentially. "I don't have _anything_ to do today. I'm going to be so bored today, I'll be bored as a rake."

It looked as though he was going to say something, indeed, he opened his mouth and took in some air, like people do right before they say something. But it never came. He just stared at me for a long time, then closed his mouth again and turned towards his clock. Without warning, he turned back around and opened his mouth again, hesitating somewhat before finally saying something. "Well, you could… what I mean to say is, if you would… Raphaela, I have a lot of work to do. You should go. Now."

I raised my eyebrows. _That_ was rude. I turned on my heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind me. I heard a colossal, angry roar from behind the closed door once it had shut, and jumped in surprise. Well, how about that. I guess I _did_ enrage him beyond words. I didn't think I'd been _that_ annoying, though.


	18. How Good It Is To See You

**Chapter Eighteen: How Good It Is To See You**

I rattled around my bedroom for the rest of Sunday, just as I'd predicted, bored as a rake. I'd brought some books with me to Hogwarts, but they were mostly books about potions and thinking of potions made me think of Severus, which made me think of how angry he was with me, which made me sad. I couldn't exactly put my finger on why it made me sad, though. I figured it must have been because I so deeply wanted his approval, and he'd been holding out.

Johnny didn't owl, though I hadn't really expected him to, not so soon anyway. These things had to be done with precision. Still, it was the longest Sunday I've ever experienced, mostly spent lying on my back on my bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking up ways to annoy Severus. Couldn't think of any though. Monday couldn't have come soon enough, even if it did mean work. I didn't mind the work, truth be told, and it gave me something to do. Then, as school tends to do, all the days seemed to run together, and before I knew it, it was the weekend again. Still no word from Johnny, though.

Saturday afternoon came, and I was sitting in my bedroom, leaning against the wall where the last patches of orange-tinted sunlight fell warmly on me. I was savoring the warmth, knowing that all too soon it would be winter in Hogwarts and that could only mean one thing: cold. I made a mental note to make a trip to London sometime and get a space heater, so that I wouldn't freeze to death on the trek from my bed to the bathroom in the mornings, before realizing that a) electrical items didn't even work in Hogwarts, and b) I had survived sub-zero temperatures without adequate clothing, a little five-second dash in the cold wouldn't kill me. Still, I made a note to ask someone what I could do about space heating.

Still no word from Johnny. I wondered briefly what he was up to, before realizing that I was _pining_. If there's one thing Raphaela Vialle does not do, it is pine. I decided then and there that I wouldn't pine any longer. It was Johnny's stupid loss if he didn't like me enough to owl me. I wasn't going to let it bother me, like I was still a schoolgirl. I'd just have to try and do really well in potions, so Severus would finally think I was competent. Unlikely as that may be, I had to try. Before my mind could think of any ways to make Severus appreciate the work I did, (I mean, I _did_ organize that whole store closet, without so much as a thank-you in return. Though I supposed that he did stuff bezoars down my throat all night. Perhaps that was his twisted way of saying 'good job'.) an owl flew in my window and dropped a letter on my bed. Forgetting myself, I dove for it like a madwoman, snatching it from the owl's claws and tearing it open feverishly. Two pieces of parchment fell out, one that had a 'J' seal on it, and one that simply read 'read me first!!' Realizing that I should never disobey parchment (papercuts are the work of the devil) I read the smaller note first. A huge, goofy grin spread across my face when I saw that it was from Johnny.

_Sorry that it took me a week to owl you. I meant to do it sooner but I don't have an owl of my own and you know, you always _mean_ to go to the post office but somehow you keep putting it off and it just doesn't get done. I'd have used my roommate's owl but he's kind of weird about it, you know? Anyway, I hope you read this first, and you didn't just chuck my letter in the fire because you were so annoyed that I took so long to owl. Sorry again. J._

I almost squealed with girlish nerves as I tossed the short note aside and opened the main letter, tearing some of the paper against the seal. A seal seemed like an odd thing to put on a casual letter, especially on the letter itself and not on the envelope. But I decided not to dwell on it and instead perused the letter.

_Hi Raphaela!_

_It's Johnny, the boy from Saturday slash Sunday. I hope you meant it about me owling you, because I am. If you didn't mean it that's cool too, you can just ignore this letter._

_So… how odd, now that I'm writing, I've got nothing to say. One should write a lot of very interesting and engaging things in a letter, right? Sorry about that. I guess I'm just better in person at talking. Or I might not be, I've never had a conversation with myself._

_Anyway, along those lines, I had fun on Saturday slash Sunday. There's an annual park festival in Hogsmeade on the twentieth, it's pretty nice, there's usually bands and some cool food and booze stalls. I'll be there if you want to see me, and I promise not to pass out too early this time._

_Regards,_

_J._

The twentieth could not have come soon enough. I was ridiculously, girlishly happy all through Friday the twentieth's classes, and it was annoying Severus to no end. After my eleventh rendition of my "I Have a Date" song, he actually started to shout at me, telling me to either shut up about my not-even-a-real-date date or to get out of his classroom and don't bother coming back. It was a bit of an overreaction, but I figured that he was probably already cheesed off, since I had a date and he didn't. Honestly, jealousy is so transparent. I could see straight through him, and he knew it. He was so angry with me that by the end of the lesson, he actually made a first-year cry with a combination of cutting taunts and general scariness. But it was okay because it meant that I got to tell him off.

The not-even-a-real-date date actually went fantastically well. I met his roommate (weird Divination type sitting on a rug with crystals all around) and his best friend (girl who was so pretty that I was actually annoyed, and felt a sense of 'a competition that I would surely lose' for about an hour, before I found out she was actually gay) and we had some of the fun park food (meat on a stick dripping with fat) and booze (tongue-curlingly sweet honey wine) and the bands were so good I actually danced. Though that could've been the fault of the honey wine, because I had the feeling it was more potent than it tasted. And then, the sun set, the sky darkened, the bands started to pack up their equipment, and Johnny asked me if I'd like to see him again. It was so sweet I almost got diabetes, but I settled for going all wide-eyed and saying 'awww!' which, apparently, was completely the _wrong_ thing to say. He'd folded his arms, turned sideways, and humphed towards the closing food stalls. I had to sit him down and explain to him that I didn't think he was pathetic, and the 'awww' was juts an expression of how adorable he was. Yeah. It was a really, really nice night.


	19. Christmas Day

**Chapter Nineteen: Christmas Day**

Winter came as quickly as I'd thought it would. Snow began to fall around Hogwarts and while it looked very pretty in a magical, winter wonderland sort of way, I personally rued the day that the decision was made to use stone to build the castle. It was _freezing_. I felt like I was trapped inside an iceberg all the time, except those nice, warm times when I was down in the dungeons with Severus. I much preferred the time I spent down there with him to the vast expanses of weekend that I stayed holed up in my cold room, trying to snuggle under the blankets and wishing someone would bring me hot chocolate. Unfortunately, that wish was never fulfilled, though I did go for coffees with Johnny a lot. He was the only thing that could make me leave the relative warmth of the castle, although I had to glare at him when he laughed at me for wearing four sweaters and three scarves out to Hogsmeade.

Soon, Christmas Day was upon the castle. I woke up that morning feeling oddly rested, even though I'd barely gotten any sleep the night before. Even if some of the magic had worn off Christmas over the years, I still got too excited to sleep on Christmas Eve. Taking a quick shower, I threw on a pair of black jeans and a pretty green turtleneck and ambled over to the Great Hall. The path I had to take to get there, while confusing in my first week, was like second nature now, and so before I knew it, I was entering the Hall and moving up to take my regular place next to Severus at the staff table.

"Happy Christmas," I said to him cheerily, smiling as widely as I could. "You're not going to get to me today, because it's Christmas and it's a time for niceness. In fact, if you're a jerk to me, I'll just pretend you're offering to make me a sandwich."

He stared at me for a while, one eyebrow raised. "Merry Christmas," he finally said, sounding as though it were causing him great pain to do so. "Though it kills me to exchange pleasantries with you."

"I think wholemeal today, thank you," I said joyfully, piling bacon on my plate. Severus sighed next to me and I giggled to myself, pleased to know that I had beat him in a match of wits. I knew that sandwiches could solve anything. The door to the Great Hall burst open with a bang, and I paused in my butter-spreading to see what the commotion was. To my immense surprise, a huge man in a red coat and hat was handing out bulging stockings to everyone. "Er… what's going on?" I asked, wondering what on earth had changed in my absence from the school. It was Minerva, two seats down, who answered me; Severus was spreading butter so hard that it was a miracle he wasn't snapping the toast.

"It's something new we're trying out this year," she said with a small smile on her face. "Instead of leaving the presents by their beds, Hagrid's handing them out at breakfast. Adds a sense of occasion to the whole event, I think. In fact, it was Severus' idea -"

"Minerva!" Severus slammed his toast down on his plate, saying her name extremely loudly and sharply in a 'keep talking and I'll rip out your still-beating heart and eat it in front of you' sort of a way. I was glad I wasn't in her shoes, but seriously? Severus thinking of something as sweet as a new Christmas tradition? Something told me he had an ulterior motive, but I decided to let it go for now and concentrate on what Hagrid was doing. I stared down at the giant of a man, terrifying first years with his bellowing 'ho ho ho' and the fact that he was swinging the sack of stockings so violently they could have taken someone's head off.

"That's nice," I said. "I mean, the younger ones would probably like it. Don't know about the older ones though. They always think they're too cool for everything. Damn teenagers."

"Now, there's no need to be rude about the students, Raphaela," said Severus, the merest tiny hint of a smile playing across his face. Before I could cry out in immense outrage at his blatant hypocrisy, I was hit in the face by a flying red projectile. I fell backwards in my seat and ended up sprawled on the ground, the teachers staring at me as though I'd gone mad. My nose throbbed in pain but it didn't seem broken; I wiggled it with my fingers to make sure. It hurt like a bitch, but I couldn't feel any displaced cartilage moving about in there so I judged my status as unhurt.

"Sorry Raphaela," came a gruff voice from the other side of the table. "Thought you were gonna catch it."

"That's okay," I called out, struggling to get to my feet, right my chair and pick up my stocking all at the same time. Somehow, I managed to regain my composure and sit back down at the table in time to get properly excited about Christmas presents. I looked at Severus, who had turned a shocking shade of maroon as he awkwardly clutched a stocking at arm's length, as though it were a bomb. "You _open_ it, Severus," I said with a laugh.

"Er… yes, of course," he said, drawing the box out of the stocking and staring at it, eyebrows furrowed. It was covered in green and silver wrapping paper with pictures of cross-eyed reindeer on it.

"I thought the reindeer were too cute to pass up. And green and silver are your colours. Sorry for the shit job I did wrapping, I was never any good at it," I said, pulling out a parcel from my own stocking. Severus' head snapped towards me and stared as though I were insane.

"This… this was you?" he asked, seeming utterly shocked, but in a not entirely unpleasant way. "And don't swear in front of the children."

"The students are too far away to hear me swearing my tits off," I said, adding an expletive just to annoy him. "In fact, I can say cock bugger shit fuck and nobody will be any the wiser."

"_Vialle!_" Oops. McGonagall was staring at me like I'd pooped on her hat. "I do believe in free speech, but some things should not be said at the breakfast table."

"Sorry," I said quickly, then turned back to Severus. He was still staring at the unopened parcel in front of him. "Open the damn thing, you old bat."

He glared at me, but unwrapped it anyway. A long scarf came tumbling onto his lap, which he regarded with a mixture of surprise and wariness. It was a particularly nice scarf, black and green with silver serpents stitched in near the bottom. "This is… not entirely revolting."

"Well, I'll take that as the best I'll hear from you today," I said cheerfully, opening my first present. It was a pair of gorgeous emerald earrings and a silver snake bracelet with diamonds for eyes, which I put on immediately. The snake promptly swallowed its tail and tightened around my wrist until it fit perfectly. The enclosed note read _for the future head of Slytherin house, with love from Mum and Dad._ I giggled at their sentiment and showed the note to Severus, who simply scowled. I barely had time to quickly eat some bacon and a few mouthfuls of toast after unwrapping all my presents, before the food melted away and I was left, once more, with nothing to do.

"Severus?" I said as he stood up, preparing to leave the Great Hall. He paused and looked down at me, an almost friendly look on his face. "Um… are you doing anything today?"

"I had not made plans, if that is what you meant," he said, still frozen in front of his seat. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that when I'm not in the dungeons with you or out with Johnny," (he actually scowled slightly at this) "I'm just hanging around my room with nothing to do. And it's a bit sad to be doing that on _Christmas_."

"Do you have a point?"

"I just figured it'd be nice to have some company when I do nothing again."

The expression on his face was one I couldn't entirely make out, but he didn't look angry with me like he usually did. "I can think of no reasonable excuse not to."

So, on Christmas Day of the first year of my (sort of) new job, I spent the day with Severus Snape. After the third time I replied to his barbs with suggestions for sandwich fillings, he gave up trying to offend me and was nearly a pleasant human being. He even made me laugh a few times, though I'm not sure that was intentional. It was only in the mid-afternoon, when the sun began to set, that I realised something I'd missed earlier.

"I haven't heard anything from Johnny today," I said suddenly. We were sitting in armchairs in the living room of his quarters, a roaring fire warming my toes and steaming mugs of hot chocolate (laced with booze at my request) to comfort us. "Weird, 'cause we've kind of been dating a while." I swirled the dregs of my hot chocolate lazily and finished it off, resting the mug back on the dark wood table between our chairs, and noticed that he had quite a peculiar look on his face. He stood up suddenly, turning to the door and beginning to walk towards it.

"I have suddenly remembered something I meant to do. You can show yourself out."

Bloody impossible, that man.


	20. Giving

**Chapter Twenty: Giving**

After Severus' stupid rudeness, that for some reason made me feel very upset and angry, I stormed back to my living quarters. Unfortunately, storming in a turtleneck is a bloody stupid idea, especially when one is going up several flights of stairs, because those things can get extremely hot. I ended up having to take it off a few corridors away from my rooms and make a dash for it in my bra. Fortunately, this time Severus wasn't waiting outside my doorway. And why would he be? Unless it was to apologize for the way he'd (very childishly) acted in his quarters. But I'd have to go without an apology, for there was no Severus by the door. I didn't know why I'd sort of been half-expecting him to be there. Or perhaps it was just a futile hope rather than expectance? Entering my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned my back against it, resting the back of my head against it too. It was only after I'd tossed my jumper in the laundry basket and pulled on a pyjama top that I noticed what was lying on my bed.

A rose. A long-stemmed, bright crimson rose. _Johnny!_ An owl must have delivered it while I was with Severus. I felt a momentary pang of guilt for being with Severus while Johnny's rose was slowly wilting on the bed, but quickly cast that off. It was a completely ridiculous concept, that I'd feel guilty for something like that. I was a busy young almost-teacher with _places to be_, damnit, and it wasn't my fault if I missed the post. Still, I picked up the rose with joy and ran some water into a tall vase I found in a cabinet (why keep spare vases in cabinets?) and placed it inside, then put the vase on the table next to my bed so I could look at it before I fell asleep at night. I picked up the small note that had been lying with the rose and read it, feeling my heart melt.

_Beautiful Raphaela,_

_I can feign eloquence but I confess, you make me lost for words. You will simply have to endure the few words I've retained, which I deeply hope will show you just how much you mean to me. I love you, and I am quite sure that I always will, until time itself ceases to be._

_Love._

It wasn't signed, it just read 'love' at the bottom, but it had to have been from Johnny. Who else could it have been, anyway? I didn't have that many admirers, last time I checked. It was so sweet of him, but then, most of the things he did _were_ sweet. The writing was a bit formal, but I supposed that even Johnny could bring it when the situation required. I wondered why he hadn't signed it, though. Mostly with his letters, he signed off with a _J_. It was a mystery, but I supposed that I shouldn't read too much into it. It was very, very sweet of him.

Even with the coffee I'd had with lunch, I felt fatigue creep upon me, probably due to the alcohol in the hot chocolate. I wondered briefly what kind of booze Severus had used in it before my tiredness overcame me and I stretched out on my bed, blinking at the bright stars outside my window before sleep carried me away.

The morning seemed to come too soon, making me bury my face in the pillow and wish fervently that I'd drift off to sleep again. Unfortunately sleep didn't come, and so I spent an hour trying in vain to press my face so hard into my pillow that it'd tell my brain it was time for sleep. If there was one thing I hated, it was not being able to sleep. I'd had enough of _that_ as a teenager, probably due to my ridiculously high-caffeine diet. The day I learned to make coffee magically was a turning point in my life from normal, studious Raphaela Vialle to going-slightly-mad insomniac. Fortunately, since the potions fumes always seemed to perk me up, it was my best subject. It was strange how things turned out, now I thought about it. But that was it, once my mind wandered to mundane things like subjects and potions, I knew that there would be no more sleep that morning. I got out of bed, threw on some clean clothes, and meandered down to the Great Hall, where they were just about to do Boxing Day lunch. I'd never understood why they called it Boxing Day, but I was sure they had a wonderful reason for it. Or maybe they were just pissed and wanted to make a filthy joke.

The first thing I noticed when I entered the Great Hall was that Severus was not in his usual position at the staff table. In fact, he wasn't at the staff table at all. After some careful detective work, e.g. me looking around the room, I saw him at the other end of the Hall, where the Entrance Hall entrance was. Wait, Entrance Hall entrance? That didn't sound right. At any rate, I saw him standing there. I had only moments to ponder what he was doing over there when I realised something that I probably should have realised when I'd first laid eyes on him: he was with Johnny. My pretty, pretty Johnny. Severus looked livid. Johnny looked anxious. I ran so fast over there it was near-flying, and so in a matter of moments I was standing next to Severus, grinning at Johnny like an idiot.

"Oh, hi Raphaela!" Johnny said, smiling back at me in a pleasant sort of way. It made my insides squirm around a bit, but I ignored it and focused on the situation at hand. "Can you tell this guy that he's really weirding me out? I think he's a bit cheesed off with me and he won't listen to anything I say."

I turned to Severus and fixed him with a stern look, which he returned in full force. His mouth was clamped tightly shut, though he was sending a look to kill. "Severus, stop creeping out my boyfriend. Boyfriend, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Johnny said, reaching a hand out towards mine. I took his hand and let him lead me out of the Great Hall, without a single word of disgruntlement or protest from Severus. That was certainly a first. Right before I left the Hall, however, I turned back to Severus and gave him a grin and a thumbs-up with my free hand. The look on his face quite terrified me, it looked to be a cross between intense, unbridled fury and excruciating physical pain. I wondered if perhaps he was so angry that his spleen had ruptured, but before I could meditate on it further, I was outside with Johnny and he was leading me towards a pretty fountain in the grounds. We stood there for a moment, not saying a word. He didn't seem able to meet my eyes, which gave me a pretty good idea of why he had wanted to 'talk' to me. I'd had enough shitty boyfriends to know the signs of what was about to happen.

"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips and peering at him, trying to get him to confess so I could go back inside and eat some lunch. Sure, I'd miss him, but I was damn hungry, and I couldn't get over Pretty Johnny on an empty stomach. He turned bright red, but still didn't meet my eyes. He kneeled down, still staring determinedly at the ground. "Have you lost a contact lens? I don't think you'll be able to find it in the grass out here. Besides, even if you did, would you really want it anymore? I mean, animals have probably pooped around here."

He raised his head up, but still seemed to be concentrating on my navel rather than my face. "I love you," he said quickly, and in one rapid movement he brought out a small box from his coat pocket and opened it at me. I was momentarily perplexed before I realised the contents of the box, which almost made me pass out from shock. "Raphaela Vialle, will you marry me?"

Oh my.

* * *

A/N: Well, there's only a few chapters left, and this is probably one of the only non-fluff chapters left, so enjoy it while you still can.


	21. Marry Me?

**Chapter Twenty-One: Marry Me?**

Okay. So I laughed.

Wouldn't you?

Oh, bloody hell. So I'm a horrible person. My gorgeous, sweet boyfriend asked me to marry him and I _laughed_ at him. But what was he playing at anyway?

"Excuse me?" I said, trying not to giggle. He'd looked so hopeful, but the moment I burst out laughing, his face fell and he looked utterly crushed. "I mean… I don't get this a lot."

"This is my Christmas present to you," he said, pressing the box into my hands. "Even if you say no, it's for you."

"I already got the rose, it was very sweet," I said, sitting down on the edge of the fountain and putting my face in my hands, after setting the box down on my lap. The ring was beautiful, set with amazingly cut diamonds. "And I don't know if I'll say no. I don't know if I'll say yes. I don't know anything right now."

"Rose?" he asked, clearly bewildered. I was confused for a moment, surely he'd know what I was talking about? All thoughts of roses were pushed out of my head, however, when he started to talk again. "I mean, Raph, I know it's so soon, we've only been together a couple of months, but I can't remember ever being this happy with anyone." The worst part was his sincerity. I felt like the worst person in the world, just because I hadn't said yes straight away. "You're just… you're different. And I think I could be really, really happy with you. I don't want to be with anybody else."

"Oh," was all I could say. It was so overwhelming. The things he said were so sweet, I had to take a moment to get my bearings and try to think about this proposal in a logical frame of mind. I had to think about what he'd said, and if I'd said that stuff, would I mean it? Would I be happy with him for the rest of my life? Would I forsake all others, just for him? My pretty, pretty Johnny?

The truth was that I had no idea. At twenty-seven, I barely felt old enough to legally drink, let alone marry. It seemed like such a foreign concept to me, like retirement, or death. They were things that I didn't have to think about until the time came, which was too far away to bear considering. But the time for marriage decisions was too close for comfort, and I didn't enjoy the uncomfortable situation I was in. I certainly didn't feel ready for marriage. But if Johnny was the right man, did it even matter? But that begged the question, was Johnny the right man?

I knew from muggle summers ill-spent watching bad movies that it had to be _extraordinary_. You couldn't just marry a guy just because you thought he was pretty cool. You had to be amazing together. You had to finish each other's sentences. You had to know instinctively what the other was feeling. You had to be unable to bear being apart from them, even for a minute. You had to feel like even if you spent every moment for the rest of your lives together, it wouldn't be enough. Did I feel that for Johnny?

I picked up the box and stared at the ring, hoping it would yield some answers that my mind seemed to be incapable of. The ring reminded me of all those awful movies. When you kiss them for the first time, everything changes. What was my first kiss with Johnny? Oh, that's right. It was at the park festival. We'd been dancing to the bands after a couple of glasses of the honey wine. We were in the middle of the park, dancing with each other while other people danced around us. And suddenly, when the guitarist had screeched a new chord, he'd taken my face into his hands, brought it towards his own, and kissed me. It had been a nice kiss. It tasted like honey, and I remembered feeling a bit dizzy afterwards. I think that might just have been because of the booze though, coupled with the fact I'd been swaying with my eyes closed. Not a good combination, I reflected.

But I liked Johnny. I _really_ liked Johnny. He was so pretty and sweet. But did I want to spend the rest of my life with him, and him alone?

"I don't think I can marry you," I said finally, trying not to look at him. "I really do like you, but… I'm sort of… I'm looking for something extraordinary, and while you're everything I've ever wanted, I think something's missing."

He didn't reply. Well, not using words. He just made a low sort of cross between a growl and a squeak.

"I still want to be your girlfriend," I said finally, after sitting for a few minutes in awkward silence. I could feel him turn to face me, though I still didn't look at him.

"No, Raph," he said softly, reaching out to touch a tendril of my hair, resting his forearm on my shoulder. "If you can't marry me then I don't think I can go on seeing you, when every time I do I'll just be reminded of what I won't be able to keep forever." He stood up and turned away, but I caught the end of his coat with my hand. He turned back to face me, and I offered the ring back towards him. He shook his head. "I said that was for you, whether you married me or not."

"I… I don't have any use for it," I said, feeling more and more callous by the minute. Part of me was screaming that I was making a horrible mistake, and that I should fall at his feet and beg for forgiveness. The other part sort of wanted to run far, far away.

He shook his head. "Neither do I. I get the feeling I won't need it. You are… you are my only one."

And with that, he left, and I was feeling like the most horrible, cold-hearted bitch in existence. I remained sitting on the fountain rim for some time, though I had no idea how long, staring at the hydrangea bush in front of me. I clutched the box containing the ring with one hand, and the other was plastered to the side of my face in shock at what had just happened. When it started to snow, though, I got the feeling that it was time to go back inside. To this day, I have no idea what made me turn back around to look at the statue in the middle of the fountain. Merlin knows I'd never paid attention to it before. But it looked beautiful, surrounded by slowly falling snow. It was of a woman in a long, floaty toga, one hand against her heart and the other stretched out towards something unknown. I walked around until the woman and I were face to face, and I saw the most incredible look of abject loss and destitution carved into her marble face. She looked so horribly depressed that I felt I had to do something to help her, even if she wasn't real. I took the ring from the box and slipped it onto the finger of her outstretched hand, where it sparkled in the light. She still looked horrifically grief-stricken, but at least now she could be with her beloved forever, whoever it was. Unlike my pretty, pretty Johnny.

With that done, there was nothing left to do but to go back inside the castle. Lunch was long over and the Great Hall was completely empty, save for a single person sitting at the staff table. It was Severus, and although there was no longer any food on the tables, he remained sitting there, watching my approach with an unreadable expression on his face. After what seemed like an age, I made it to the staff table and stood opposite him, placing my hands down on the table to look more imposing. I didn't know why I was doing that, but I did it anyway.

"He just asked me to marry him."

Severus stood up so quickly that his chair was knocked back, zooming across the floor noisily in the empty hall. "Well," he said, that strange anger-pain look on his face again, "I certainly hope you two are happy together, until time itself ceases to be." He stared at me for a few moments after that, as though expecting some great revelation, but I didn't have the energy to tell him that I'd refused. I felt utterly drained, so I continued to stare straight back at him. "I see. Well, that's that then. I bid you good day, Vialle."

There was something strange about his choice of words. The first thing that leapt out at me was his use of my surname to address me. I hoped he wasn't regressing back into his old ways, it had been difficult for me even to begin chipping away at his cold, hard exterior. He was as marble as the statue in the fountain. The second thing I noticed was his use of the phrase 'until time itself ceases to be'. It was certainly an odd thing to say, but it seemed somewhat familiar to me, like I'd heard it somewhere before. Oh well, though. I supposed it couldn't have been too important.

* * *

A/N: So when I wrote this chapter, I had a little A/N here explaining things, but I think I'll leave it out. I think you guys are probably smart enough to see what's happening. If not, and I've made it too cryptic, then I'll feel pretty silly. It's pretty hard to look at your own work objectively, you know?


	22. A Hasty Decision

**Chapter Twenty-Two: A Hasty Decision**

I didn't go back to my room that night. I knew I'd only been dating Johnny for a few months, and I don't even think I really liked him _that_ much, but it was… it was just _nice_ being with him. It seemed like a horrific understatement, but 'nice' was the only word that fit. Instead, after dinner, I bid my goodbyes to the professors and began wandering aimlessly around the school. The castle itself was colossal, so I didn't have to worry about getting bored in the place. No two corridors were the same, unless they did it on purpose to try and trick you. In fact, all the tricks had begun to really get to me after a few hours, so I decided to move my meandering down to the dungeons. It may have seemed ridiculous, but the cold, uninviting place had slowly become where I felt most at home. My rooms upstairs may have been warmer and better lit, but they were incredibly boring. Especially since Severus had invoked some ancient rule that forbade male callers to female staff members after five p.m., and he'd apparently made a very convincing case to McGonagall about why I should be considered a staff member. That man was utterly impossible. He was cold and sarcastic, refusing to be friends with _anyone_ and making me suffer just for the hell of it. His jealousy regarding Johnny would have been laughable, were it not so infuriating. Just because I'd found a boyfriend and he was a grumpy old singleton, he had to ruin my happiness. Well, he wouldn't bother me anymore, y'know, because of the break-up and all. At least I could be thankful for that.

Something very hard hit me directly in the hip bone and I inhaled sharply before letting out a loud stream of expletives, communicating to the world exactly how much pain I was in. I clutched my hip and hopped up and down on the spot, cursing the pain and sort of hoping I'd broken it. What? I'd never broken a bone before. I wanted to know what it was like. So hex me. I wildly looked around for what had caused the stabbing pain in my side, before realizing that it was a shiny silver doorknob. Not only was it a doorknob, it was turning, and the door was swinging open to reveal a very angry-looking Severus Snape.

Just my luck, to run into the only door in the castle that housed the very man who I'd been planning to avoid. Then, I realised that I hadn't even told him about the fact I'd said no to Johnny. I supposed I should do that, but before I got a chance to say a word, he started to lecture me.

"What do you think you're doing down here at this time of night, Vialle? And not only did you decide it was a _good_ idea to go stampeding around the castle in the early hours of the morning, you stand by my door and shout louder and filthier words than I've ever had the misfortune to hear in my life. Do you enjoy being a complete and utter pain? Do you have to work at being so mind-numbingly irritating, or does it just come naturally? Because for the life of me I can't tell. What did you think was going to _happen_ when you started shouting outside my door? Did you think we were going to have _hot chocolate_, and become _best friends_? Sweet Merlin's beard, Vialle, there is something so incredibly _wrong_ with you, I don't even know if you started out smart then _became_ a raging idiot, or whether there's just so much inbreeding in your family line that there was never any hope for you. Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

He stopped talking and breathed in and out very fast, reminding me somewhat of a bull about to charge. I made a mental note to cover my face if he did lower his head and come at me, but then realised that I'd really done it this time. I didn't think that injuring myself in the vicinity of his room was bad enough to warrant that outburst of his, but there it was. He was angrier than I'd ever seen him in my life, and from his little shout-a-thon, he didn't seem too fussed about forgiving me. Even though I hadn't _meant_ to be a nuisance.

"I'm sorry I woke you," was all I could say. Every muscle in my body was screaming at me to lower my head and look sheepish, but for some reason I didn't. I just stared defiantly at him, jaw clenched in anxiety.

"I was awake."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I do not appreciate having to listen to what sounds like a cow being murdered at two in the morning."

"Contrary to popular belief."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"I am so utterly sick of you and your idiotic drivel, Vialle," he said, folding his arms and glaring down at me. He even drew himself up to full height to look down on me better. The butthead.

"Why are you using my last name again?" It was bugging me, and I wanted him to stop it, or at least explain himself. I couldn't think of anything that could have brought forth this sudden hostility. He'd almost been _nice_ to me on Christmas Day, before he stormed out with some lame excuse about having something to do.

"I suppose I will have to begin calling you by another surname soon, won't I?" He hadn't answered the question. "Do you know _his_ surname?" The amount of contempt he put into that one _his_ was almost palpable, and not for the first time, I wondered what on earth his problem was. I'd thought it was just that I had a boyfriend and he had nobody, but surely it couldn't draw out _this_ much rage?

"You didn't answer me," I said, folding my arms to mirror him and not breaking eye contact.

"_You_ didn't answer _me_." Why did he have to be so bloody impossible? Dealing with him was so infuriating it made me want to smash my head against a brick wall multiple times. Or his.

"I thought you were being rhetorical," I said. "You know what? I don't care. Call me whatever you want. I'm through trying to be your friend. You can just forget about it, and forget about me. I'm going to go to McGonagall in the morning and I'm going to quit."

"That's a bit extreme," he said quickly, and I saw that his eyebrows were raised and his eyes were slightly wider. He'd even unfolded his arms, and they hung awkwardly at his sides. "You don't have to do that on account of me."

"Oh, but I do, Severus," I said, turning to look down the corridor. "Do you have any idea how much I've tried to make you like me? How many times I've suppressed the urge to cut your face off? It isn't going to be possible for me to continue working here when you're always so hostile." I began walking away, the way I'd come. I hadn't thought much when I'd said it, but now I saw that it was the best course of action. I had to quit. Working with Severus would be incredibly damaging, and I couldn't take it. I'd spend the rest of the night packing my things, I'd go to McGonagall first thing, and hopefully I could leave without having to see Severus. Something wet dripped onto my collarbone and I stopped, looking up at the ceiling for a leak. Granted, it was dark, but I couldn't make out a drip. Then, I realized that it wasn't a roof leak. I was crying. Why should I have been crying? Sure, I liked the job, but it was so unbearable to be around Severus. Thinking of him made my eyes well up again… I guessed that he'd grown on me somewhat, but it still wasn't grounds for _crying_. I blinked several times and wiped my cheeks, running up the last few staircases to my rooms so that I wouldn't run into anyone. Thankfully, I was lucky, and made it into my room unseen before collapsing onto my bed in wracking sobs. Bloody Severus. Even when he wasn't around, he was upsetting me. I couldn't wait to be away from him.

* * *

A/N: Well... this is a weird feeling. The next chapter just so happens to be the final one. Feeling a bit sad, actually. So brace yourselves for the final instalment in the saga of an Angry, Emotionally Challenged Professor and an Odd, Clueless Girl.


	23. Final Chapter: Eschew Obfuscation

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Eschew Obfuscation**

The sun was rising. I was lying on my side, fully clothed, on top of the blankets on my bed. Everything I owned was in a single, navy suitcase by the doorway. It was a bit sad, when I thought about it, but I didn't really have that much stuff of my own. It was just clothes and books, mainly. Useful, though, for when I had to get out of a place in a rush. Like now. It was almost time for me to go and talk to McGonagall about leaving. I wasn't sure how she'd take it, but I didn't think she'd stop me from leaving if it was something I wanted to do. Even if she told me to stay, I could leave secretly. Run away, as it were. But I wasn't _running away_, per se. I had problems that wouldn't magically be fixed by staying. Tall, pale problems that were called Severus Snape. Him and his stupid words, saying mean things and making me sad.

The rose was still in the vase by my bed. I drew it out and looked at it. It was beautiful, the outer petals curling outward slightly. It was so stupid, when I thought about it. Just a dumb flower. It would be dead in a week. I threw it across the room in a fit of anger, cursing Johnny and his stupid proposal. If only he hadn't asked me to marry him. If only he hadn't loved me as much as he did. If only I'd loved him as much as he loved me. What had been his exact wording in the letter that came with the rose? _Until time itself ceases to be._ It was so poetic, kind of unlike him. I took the note in my hands and read it over for the millionth time, smiling slightly at his wording. _You will simply have to endure the few words I've retained, which I deeply hope will show you just how much you mean to me._ Just how much you mean to me. It was so sweet and lyrical, I loved that about him. He was so sweet. Nothing like that horrible Severus, who was always trying to cut me down and make me feel like crap. There was no way Severus would ever say something as sweet as this to me.

_Until time itself ceases to be._

Oh.

Oh dear.

It was him.

_Fuck._

Oh, bloody hell. I'd been so stupid. How could I have been so blind? It was so obvious, now that I thought about it. There must have been something terribly, terribly wrong with me to have prevented me from realizing the truth. Either that or I'm just as dense as he always said I was. I felt like a word-class fool, to have been in the dark for so long. A knock at the door interrupted my stream of self-pitying thoughts and I jumped in surprise. I wasn't expecting anyone so early in the morning in the school holidays, who could it have been? I rolled quickly off the bed, aiming for a graceful land on my feet, but instead I fell off and hit my head on the sharp corner of my bedside table. I let out a loud stream of expletives as my head seemed to split apart, clutching my skull and scrunching up my face in pain. Whoever was at the door knocked again, louder this time.

"I'm bloody coming! I've just sustained a serious head injury!" I called, staggering over to the door, still holding my head. I swung it open, having utterly no idea who on earth I would find there. Indeed, it was the last person I thought I'd see. It was McGonagall.

"I apologize for interrupting your… head injury," she said, looking quite bemused. The pain in my head was growing; I kind of wished she'd stop talking. Every word seemed like a knife, twisting into my brain. "Severus seemed quite insistent that I speak to you immediately."

"Oh, does he? Probably wants to hasten my departure," I scoffed, before remembering what I'd realized only two minutes previous. My stomach twisted around and I felt quite queasy. "I mean… why?"

"Well," she said, and glanced at my empty room and suitcase by the door, "He seemed to think you wanted to leave Hogwarts. I can see he was correct."

"I… did, yeah, but… I don't know. It's hard to be around him sometimes." It sounded feeble and petty when I said it out loud, but it had seemed a lot worse a few hours previous.

"I understand," McGonagall said, nodding and cracking a half-smile. "He can be difficult. I daresay you've made quite an impression on him, though. He seemed very insistent that I convince you to stay."

"Well, maybe I don't… I don't want to," I said, feeling quite dizzy. The sick feeling in my stomach worsened and my head started to spin. "Maybe I want to leave… for teaching… I mean, I want to teach him a lesson. Stupid Sev'rus."

"Are you feeling okay, Raphaela?" The words came to me slowly and thickly, as though they were made of cream. "Oh my, is that blood?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," I managed to stammer out, before McGonagall's concerned face before me turned black and I fell to the ground.

I heard voices all around me, speaking in a language I didn't understand. Bare moments later, I realized it was English. One voice was high-pitched and angry-sounding, the other somewhat lower but equally furious. I tried hard to tune my ears to hear them, but it was still gibberish. I hoped I hadn't lost my capacity for language when I hit my head. That would have been quite horrendous, never to regale anyone of tales of my adventures again. I'd have to get one of those thingies that talked for me, and they were probably really expensive, and always sounded a bit funny. Oh, wait, glorious day! I could understand the words again! I concentrated once more, and managed to make out what the people were saying.

"…Don't see why I can't see her." This was the lower voice. It seemed vaguely familiar to me.

"Because she has sustained a very serious head injury, Severus. There was no brain damage that I could detect, but she still needs _complete bed rest_. I'm afraid visitors might overstimulate her in her weakened state. Nobody sees her."

"Overstimulate, Poppy? What on earth do you think I'm going to do, bring her a circus?"

"I'm sorry, but this is final. No visitors until she wakes up."

"I'm awake," I said softly, opening my eyes slowly. I was in the hospital wing, and a quick scan of the other beds told me that I was the only patient. My head didn't hurt anymore, but it felt very strange. I reached a hand up to touch the wound and found it to be bandaged thickly. "I'm fine."

"See? She's fine," said Severus, pushing past Madam Pomfrey and storming over to me. "Merlin's beard, Raphaela, what do you think you were doing? You can't just crack open your skull whenever you feel like it, you know, people worry."

"Like you?" I laughed weakly. "You don't worry. You ponder."

"People ponder," he said, narrowing his eyes before flopping down on one of the uncomfortable-looking visitor seats. He leaned forwards, elbows on knees, and rested his chin on one hand. "Are you going to leave?" he asked quietly. I didn't quite have an answer for that. I was so sure I wanted to leave, but that was before I'd found out about him. I had to rethink a lot of things. I didn't reply, I just looked at him. "It's probably for the best if you do, since you'll be married soon. You'll be far too busy for a teaching position."

"And that's what you thought when you made McGonagall convince me to stay?" I asked, grinning. His eyebrows rose and I could see his jaw clenching. He looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"I see that Minerva's word of confidence is not worth much," he said, leaning back. "However, I concede that she never gave such a word. I simply assumed that it was not the kind of thing that one was flippant about discussing… with certain people."

"Ahh, you should never make assumptions," I said, waggling a finger at him. "Like, you shouldn't assume that I'll understand anything unless it's spelled out for me, Mr. Until-Time-Itself-Ceases-To-Be." He actually turned bright red at this, and seemed to draw back into himself, as though he wanted nothing more than to hide under one of the hospital wing beds. "And you shouldn't assume that I'm going to marry Johnny. I never said I was going to."

"…Oh," was all he said, still looking horrifically awkward. "Well… this is… an interesting development."

"Okay, Mr. Understatement," I laughed. "I'm not marrying him. We broke up, actually." For some reason, I felt quite pleasant in that hospital bed. I was happier than I'd been in a while, and I was regaining some of my old habits, like the one where I never stop talking to people. "We just weren't right for each other. But I guess it's good that we figured that out now, rather than after we were married, or something like that. I'm just… looking for something a bit more extraordinary."

"Is that so?" Severus said, with a mildly interested look on his face. He looked slightly less uncomfortable, but I still wouldn't have been surprised if he'd pulled up his cloak to cover his head. Actually, I would've, but it'd still be bloody funny.

"I think it's you, Severus," I said, feeling quite embarrassed myself. It had taken me a long time to realize it, but I guess I was never the sharpest wand in the store. It took me a long time to figure things out, usually. I mean, I'm not stupid. I'm just terrible at putting two and two together, sometimes. And now that I'd had a chance to think about things, and to think about what I really felt, it was as clear as crystal. Maybe it had to be knocked into me by a vengeful table edge, but my head injury had certainly helped me see what was right in front of me. "I think… I don't know. I think that you're quite… lovely. More than lovely, in fact. Quite excellent."

"Oh," he said again, nodding slightly, but I saw that his jaw was still tightly clenched. "Well, indeed, I must say that you have grown on me somewhat."

"Like a fungus," I interjected, smiling broadly. "I knew it."

"Er… yes. To use my own words, like a fungus. A fungus that is quite lovely. Quite excellent."

"An excellent fungus," I said, laughing slightly. "I suppose that's the best I'll get from you."

"I wouldn't hold out for better," he said, reaching forward and taking my hand. It was different with him to how it was with Johnny. With Severus I kind of felt lovely, like nothing really mattered except us. It was a nice feeling. "You'd be waiting a while."

I smiled. Sure, he was a horrible person. He delighted in tormenting small children, and gave poor marks to those he disliked. He was a bitter, twisted man who had long forgotten how to be nice to people. But he was _my_ horrible person. And I'd never really liked small children anyway.

"So, are you going to leave?" he asked quietly, looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face. "Because I think you'll make a wonderful Potions Master."

The answer was obvious. It wasn't like I had anywhere else to go, really. Or anywhere that I had to be. The only pressing appointment I had was with Severus, right now. Nothing else really seemed to be important anymore.

"I'll be anywhere you are."

* * *

A/N: Wow! It's over! How unexpected! I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I do feel a bit at a loss now that it's over though. I really like Raphaela, even if she is completely stupid sometimes. And yet... A SEQUEL IS IN THE WORKS!

And I'm very, very sorry for all the horrific fluff in this chapter. I tried to make it as non-cliché as possible, but you know how it is.

Anyway, let me know what you think of the sequel idea. With the rate I write, it won't be out for ages (I started this story a year and a half ago) but I'll put some work in if I have enough motivation. Also tell me how you liked this story! And tell me if there's anything I could do better in the sequel. You guys have all been so sweet to me through this story, thanks so much for reading. :)


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